Farewell 1991
by dratinigirl
Summary: "Will you follow me, little bolshevik?" Fic based off of the MAD on youtube. A timeline of events, in the form of Yao and Ivan's relationship, from around ww2 to 1991. Please read and review! Russia/China or Rochu
1. Chapter 1

Farewell 1991

Wang Yao could feel pain seeping into him, agony filling mind and body alike. The sting of betrayal showed itself in the form a huge slash over his spine. The wound was fresh and raw; but the pain it brought him could never equal what he felt after his own brother turned against him, cutting him down like a withered flower. Other scars made themselves known on his skin, some of them old and faded; some red and threating to reopen themselves.

He sighed hopelessly, burying his face into the sheets atop his mattress. He lay on his stomach, the pain brought by laying on his bleeding back too much for him to bear. He could still remember the feeling of cold steel slashing into him, tearing his skin as his younger sibling brought the wrath of his sword upon him. Yao had said nothing, merely staring up at the man that stood above him; his eyes as black as coal; his sword dripping with crimson liquid. Kiku turned, and had walked away. Just walked away from him, and Yao could hear his heart shattering into millions of tiny shards.

He felt helpless and alone, the other two major powers of the world he had come to associate with busy on other matters. If Alfred had contact with him, it was only to increase their trade relations further, to use him as always. Ivan was also occupied with the war he and Ludwig fought, only associating with him to belittle his ideas of government.

Yao felt like crying, but he knew that his tears were dry and gone. The betrayal and loneliness he felt covered him like a cloud of toxic black smog, filling his lungs to the point where it was hard to breathe. He got up, his body dripping with what felt like burning ice; making the February air even colder. The room was dark, the only light being that of the moon shining through the closed curtains. He cursed the object in the sky; bringing in light when he wanted darkness, making his wounds burn with memories of his brother. Good memories, ones from back when Kiku had been a loyal sibling.

He left the dark room, wincing as the light of the outside hallway hit his red eyes. He walked across the wooden floor, the only noise being that of his bare fit hitting the hard surface as he walked. His steps were slow and unsteady; his legs steadily carrying him to where he needed to go. Every few moments he would tense, pain stabbing him somewhere within his body.

Finally, he made it into the kitchen. He stumbled over to open one of the cupboards, retrieving a shining glass from inside. He closed the door, hearing the soft noise of wood colliding. He turned on the tap, fresh water falling from the faucet. He filled his glass, holding it up to his lips. His fingers were shaking, threating to lose their hold as he drank. He sat the container down, giving a loud sigh. The water did nothing to ease the feeling encasing him; instead causing his stomach to feel heavy and bloated.

Yao groaned, leaning over onto the counter. His head was pounding, and sweat was still dripping into the angry slash on his back; making it sting. He panted like a dog, long black hair clouding parts of his vision. He straightened himself, making wobbly steps for the toilet. His stomach was going wild, and he cursed himself for drinking that water moments before. He was dry heaving by the time he turned the bathroom door handle; nearly collapsing in front of the toilet. Just in time, his stomach turned and sent itself flying up and out of his throat.

He emptied himself, his mouth burning with the taste of acidic vomit. His breathing was deep and labored as he lifted his head up. Supporting himself on the toilet lid, he stood. He pushed the silver handle down with trembling fingers; the sound of the rushing water like thunder in his ears.

He silently made his way back to his room; panting like a worn out animal. He collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to cover himself as he closed his eyes. The sheets below him were cold with sweat, sticking to his skin like thick honey. He fought viciously for sleep; trying to tackle the pain that wracked his lithe form. He finally crawled to victory; losing consciousness. He fell into slumber, his unconscious mind wracked with nightmares.

…

The next morning Wang Yao awoke to piercing sunlight; gasping as the rays of light hit his eyes. His head was still sore; accompanying the dull throb of his back. He froze. His curtains were open, and he was certain he wouldn't have bothered to open them in the state he was in last night. He could smell hot tea; wafting from behind him. Turning his head slowly; he met a pair of violet eyes.

Ivan was sitting in a chair beside him quietly; sipping from a hot cup of tea. Yao stared at him, amber eyes wide open in shock. The giant man smiled at him, as if he hadn't just been watching Yao sleep for who knows how long.

"Dobroye utro." The blonde said, greeting him in his own language. He sat his tea in his lap, letting it sit between two huge thighs. Yao tried lifting himself, attempting to look like the dignified nation he was, only to fall back onto the bed.

"Ivan… What are you doing here?" He asked; voice shaking. Damnit, he must have been the most pathetic thing the Russian had ever seen. "How long have you been watching me?" He questioned the larger nation.

"You knew I was coming didn't you?" The Russian replied. "You invited me over last week, da?" He questioned the Asian man in return, moving again to sip at his hot tea. Yao searched his brain, faintly recalling the event.

"I suppose I did… But you weren't supposed to be here until the middle of the afternoon." Yao told him. He managed to position himself in a way that it was easy to talk to the other nation without straining his neck. "And I'll ask you again, how long have you been watching me?"

"I came when you asked me to." Ivan told him. "You were just asleep. I didn't want to wake you. I made myself tea and lunch, but you still didn't wake up. After that I went exploring, but then I got bored and came here." The Russian said, almost sounding like a curious child who had gotten tired after a lack of discovery. "I think it's been ten minutes. Not much more than that."

Yao's eyebrow twitched. Not only had Ivan come into his home-and his room- without permission; he had gone snooping around the place with that big nose of his.

"Just who do you think you are?" The Asian nearly hissed. "You can't just invade my home like this! It's disturbing, especially when you tell me that you've been sneaking around while I was asleep." He told the other man, who took the last gulp of his tea. The blonde smiled again. That smile that he seemed to constantly hide behind; serving as a friendly mask to anyone that looked upon him.

"I'm the man you invited into your home. I only looked around, I wouldn't tell you if I had been 'sneaking'." The Russian told him, frost lacing his voice. "You are hurt, da?" He asked. Yao could feel a burning sensation over his wound as the other asked him.

"You know I am. Even a blind man could tell when I'm in this state." Yao replied. He looked away, ebony hair falling over his shoulders. "This war with Japan is tearing me apart." He admitted in a near whisper. The smile slipped from Ivan's face.

"I see. You got that wound on you back from him, da?" The giant continued to question Yao. The Asian nodded in a silent yes. The Russian let his false smile creep across his face once more. "It hurt, being betrayed by you own little brother." He stated, not in a question; but as a fact.

Yao sent a look of fire in his direction. How dare he tease him like that! "Get out. I don't want to talk to you anymore." He said, dismissing the other man. The giant didn't move. Yao's anger flared. "Are you deaf? I told you to leave!" He snapped at the Russian. He let out a strangled gasp; an electric bolt of pain shooting across the red of his back.

As Yao lay panting with pain, Ivan stood. Turning his back; he left. The Asian nation gritted his teeth together; his wound throbbing painfully. He fisted the sheets, curling himself into a ball on his side. He could feel the wound reopen itself, dripping down his spine and onto the bed. There must have been a battle of some sort going on for it to hurt this bad, he thought. He cried out once more; his eyes snapping shut.

He didn't hear the door click open over the sound of his heart drumming away in his ears; nor did he notice heavy footsteps coming towards him. When he opened his eyes again, his breath shallow and shaking, he met Ivan's gaze once more. He hadn't left; only searching for and retrieving a first aid kit.

"I told you… to leave!" China barely made out through his ragged breathing. He was pathetic, being seen in so weak a state. His breath hitched in his throat, a wave of burning pain overcoming his spine as the wound opened itself even farther apart.

"I'm going to help." Ivan told him, pulling out a roll of white bandages. Yao looked away, gritting his teeth together so hard that it added to the pain in his flesh.

"You know it won't do anything." The Asian nation said through agonized gasps. The Russian unraveled the cloth, holding it out.

"But I can always try, da?" He said, stretching the white strip. Yao hesitated for a second, and sighed. He tried sitting up, but he fell back with a loud hiss. He looked away in embarrassment as the other nation lifted him into a sitting position. Yao could feel blood trickling down the vertebrae of his spine to his tailbone.

Yao immediately knew that Ivan had no idea had to properly wrap a bandage. But he supposed that in this situation it didn't matter; seeing as the condition of the wound was controlled by the battlefield. The larger nation did try however, wrapping the cloth around him so it was just tight enough. Yao felt a little relieved, at least to the point where he wasn't doubled over in agony. He could feel the bandages sticking to him; and he knew that the blood had probably gone and soaked through his wrappings.

"How does it feel?" Ivan asked him, making sure that everything was placed correctly. He closed the first aid kit with a soft click.

"It's better." The Asian replied, his breathing more stable now; but not fully calmed. Waves of pain continued to wash over him, but they were slow and dull; not like bolts of vicious electricity as they had been before. The two sat in silence for a few moments, Yao's shuddering breath the only noise in the room. He turned his head, his unbound hair falling in ebony tresses over his shoulder.

"You should have just left." He said. "I don't need your help. I've gone through much worse than this on my own." He told the nation across from him. Russia kept that emotionless smile plastered on his lips.

"We are friends now, da?" The Russian inquired. Yao gave him a look.

"It will take more than something like this for me to call someone like you my friend." He told him. He watched with curiosity as Ivan's hand sank into his huge coat pocket; searching around for something inside. The larger nation pulled out what seemed to be a packet of paper; rolled up so it would fit inside his pocket. He held it up before Yao's eyes. Some of it was in his own language; some in Russian.

"That's not what it says right here." He told the Asian. On the front page written in black ink letters was; '_Sino-Soviet alliance of friendship'._ Yao's jaw dropped. He grabbed the paper from the other nation's grasp, flipping through the white pages of the document. He only bothered to read the signatures at the end however. Sure enough, there were two signatures at the bottom. One was the name of Ivan's boss; the other Yao's.

"They can't do this!" He exclaimed in disbelief. "They should always get a nation's consent before signing, let alone _creating _a thing like this." He said. He had never even heard a thing like this mentioned in front of him.

"But they have." Ivan told him. "In the end, it is all up to them what happens to us; whether we agree with it or not." He said; and Yao knew it was the truth. Manipulation by your ruler was a normal part of any nation's life; at some point or another. He had experienced things like this more than once over his many years. But, that still didn't mean that it was the right thing for the leader of a nation to do.

Ivan stood, his tall figure looming over the Asian nation. "Come with me." He commanded. He grabbed Yao, helping him stand. Once he had his balance the giant man walked out of the door, turning into the outside hallway.

Yao hesitated for a moment. Ivan was acting very strange. Well, stranger than he normally did that is. But the smaller nation followed, silently shadowing Ivan as he led him through the house and to the door. Yao pulled on his coat; not wishing to step into the cold air with nothing to cover his torso. Outside snow was slowly falling to the ground, blanketing the earth in a white sheet. Ivan walked out a bit further, stopping at what seemed like a random point. He looked up at the sky; the sun hidden behind white clouds.

"The snow is beautiful, even at your house." He said, a far-away look in his eyes. He stayed like that for a moment, Yao watching him stare motionlessly at the grey sky. Ivan turned, looking down at the smaller nation. He stretched his hand out, his gloved palm open. His long white scarf billowed in the cold breeze that blew past them; carrying flurries of snow with it.

"Will you follow me, little Bolshevik?" He asked him. Yao was taken aback; in part by the question itself, and by the name the other nation had used for him. He looked up into the violet eyes of the other nation; seeing the cold grin on his lips. Ivan motioned his hand a little bit, silently asking the Asian nation to accept. Yao hesitated.

Slowly, silently, he took his hand. 

Dratini here! This is my first serious hetalia fic; based off of the MAD 'farewell 1991' on youtube. I'm adding more though; so this will be Russia and China's relationship from the signing of the alliance until December 1991. And remember- the more you guys review, the faster I update! So even if you hated it don't hesitate to tell me! Thanks for reading 3


	2. Chapter 2

Heya! Here's the second chapter w Also, I forgot to mention that hetalia is not mine! It belongs to Hidekaz-sensei.

….

In the months that followed the signing of the alliance; Yao saw much more of the Russian than he had prior to the agreement. In fact, the larger man seemed to follow him around like his own shadow. Although at times he would disappear, revealing himself once more when the Asian man wasn't looking. Quite frankly, it creeped Yao out a little.

There were more nights like the one Yao had experienced that evening. Ivan would come to find him doubled over, head hanging in the toilet as blood seeped out of his back. The giant would help him into bed, carrying Yao's panting form. The smaller nation would thank him in a whisper, unable to speak through ragged breath. Sometimes Ivan would stay, and other times he would go after that. He never really said much.

In the outside world the clouds cleared from the sky, taking with them the blanket of snow that they had created. Dead and barren branches began to bloom, and winter finally shrank to nothing, leaving room for spring to flourish. Yao welcomed the warming climate with open arms, spring being one of his favorite times of the year. Ivan however, was not nearly as happy about the changing of the seasons. He was unused to a climate unlike the never ending winter of his own home.

The night was warm, so Yao had the curtains and windows of his bedroom open; enjoying the cool breeze that swept over his bare torso. He was on the verge of sleep, letting the song of the crickets in the grass outside slowly lull him into slumber. Ivan had been gone for nearly a week now; retreating back to the icy tundra he was accustomed to, the Asian supposed. He enjoyed the solitude. He had started to grow tired of hearing 'little Bolshevik this' and 'little Bolshevik that' all the time. Yao absolutely resented the nickname, but he never said a word in protest.

His consciousness was slipping, being engulfed by the tendrils of sleep and dreams. Along with them, he felt a heavy sense of dread wash over his body. He was shivering; but it wasn't from anything cold. He wanted to open his eyes, to see what could possibly be making him feel this way. For some reason his lids remained closed, no matter how hard he tried to pry them open. He felt his heart skip a beat. There were quiet footsteps, growing louder and louder as someone drew near. Yao managed to turn himself towards the noise; but his eyelids remained stuck together. He jumped as he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being removed from its sheath; the blade's master reveling in the moment.

At last, Yao's eyes bolted open. They immediately met the familiar black ones of his brother's; the glint of the sword raised high above his head reflected within them. Yao could hear a rush of air, and he snapped his eyes shut again as iron came down on him.

When he reopened them; the Asian nation had returned to the real world. But oh dear god, he wished this was still a dream. What could only be described as the raw essence of pain shot into Wang Yao's body. The wound on his back literally burst open; crimson liquid splashing onto the bed sheets. It felt like there was no air in his lungs; but the Asian proved the feeling wrong by letting out a scream. It was an animalistic yowl of agony, and he couldn't believe the noise was coming from his own throat; let alone that of any living being. He wanted to move, to grip the sheets, to run for help, to even muster a coherent thought; but his mind was being torn to shreds.

He heard a soft click. He wasn't sure if it was a door; or something inside of him cracking from the intensity of what he was feeling. He couldn't see much of anything due to the angry stars that flashed across his vision. The pain seemed to drag on for an eternity, but only a few moments later Yao felt his body relax as he fell down onto the sheets. They were soaked; although he didn't have it in him to find out what with. His breathing was irregular and labored, coming out in loud pants.

He eased his eyes open, the white that clouded his vision receding. He looked up; meeting violet irises. Ivan was watching him again. Something Yao hated. He lacked the energy to snap at him however. He felt so pathetic; lying there in a pool of body fluids and misery. The Russian man just stared at him; watching him intently as if he expected him to do something interesting.

This time was a bit different however. Instead of the usual mask of a grin he wore; his look was dark and serious. Feeling intimidated, Yao tried to shuffle away; if only just a millimeter. It didn't work. All he really managed to accomplish was pushing his elbow against the mattress a little.

The other's eyes widened, his menacing glare fading away from his face. He raised a gloved hand as he realized that he'd accidentally spooked the already jittery nation. Yao calmed himself, knowing that Ivan meant no harm. He felt his muscles tighten as a huge hand petted his dripping hair. It was oddly comforting. Yao gave the Russian a look of confusion, received by the usual grin.

Ivan stroked his hair a few more times before pulled his hand away, gloved fingers retreating. He stood; the door clicking shut as he left the Asian's room. Yao allowed his eyes to drift to a close, leveling his breath. He relaxed.

Over the song of the crickets outside his window, he could hear the sound of a telephone as a number was dialed. There was a short moment of silence, followed by the sound of Ivan's voice. It was hushed, and spoken in his native tongue. Who was he calling at this time of night? Whatever time it was. Yao realized that he had lost track. For all he knew, it could have been five in the morning.

From what the Asian nation could tell, Ivan was speaking with his boss. This wasn't that uncommon of occurrence; since the Russian had taken the liberty of using his telephone whenever he wished. For a moment or two he continued to talk in a whisper, but as the minutes passed by his voice grew louder. Now it was obvious that he was arguing with the man on the other end of the line.

It wasn't very long at all before Yao's head began to pound, driven by the loud shouts that came from down the hall. He had no idea what the argument was about, but it didn't take much to tell that Ivan was putting up a good fight for whatever he wanted. Yao's eyes were open, staring at the wall as he put his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to drown out the noise.

Yao heard the phone slam down onto the receiver. Another loud bang resounded from the walls as Ivan stormed out of the house; leaving the Asian nation alone. In any situation other than this one, Yao probably would have followed over the larger nation. But right now everything in him was completely drained. He couldn't even manage to lift his body up to replace the blood-stained bedclothes. He relaxed himself in defeat, allowing his body to start healing itself again.

Once more, the cricket's lullaby welcomed him. Yao let his tattered mind rest, allowing his eyes to close. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

…

It was nearly noon when Yao woke up the next day. His back was still throbbing with dull pain; but it didn't bother him too much. It was nothing compared to the night before. Never had the pain across his back been so intense as it had been then.

Sitting up, he looked down at the sheets beneath him. They were caked with dried sweat and blood from the previous evening. His own skin was covered in the dried crimson fluid as well. He left his room, walking down the hall. He turned into his bathroom; turning the handle to turn the shower on. After a moment he stepped in, the feeling of the warm water washing over him making him let out a breath of relief. He scrubbed the dried blood off of him, the iron-filled substance dripping down his body and down the drain. He turned the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist.

Yao returned to his room, letting out a long sigh. He pulled his sheets from his mattress, the caked blood cracking and dropping to the floor as dust. Great he thought; just another mess for him to clean up later on. He left his room once more to take his bedclothes to the washroom. He doubted that the stains would come out though.

He walked past the kitchen, feeling something inside of him twitch when he saw that Ivan wasn't there. Most mornings the Russian man could be found fumbling around with something in the kitchen. As he entered the washroom he couldn't help but wonder what that argument had been about last night. He was just about ready to begin with washing his bedclothes out when he heard the telephone ring. Yao frowned. Sighing, he went to pick it up. He guessed cleaning the bed sheets would just have to wait for later.

He lifted the phone from the receiver, putting it to his ear. "Hello?" He said. There was silence on the other end. He looked at the telephone confusedly, ready to put it back when he heard an odd noise come from the other end of the line. He listened in, hearing the sound again. It sounded like someone was ripping apart a piece of paper on the other side. "Hello? Who is this?" He asked again, louder this time.

"Ah! Bolshevik." He heard from the other end. It was Ivan. "I have good news for you." The Russian told him.

"What?" Yao questioned. "Also, what was that weird noise just a second ago? Are you tearing something up?" He continued. He heard Ivan laugh on the other end, followed by the sound he had heard before. It was definitely paper being torn.

"You don't have to worry about that pain in your back anymore." Rip. "I'll make sure of it." Rip, rip. "So you can relax, little Bolshevik." There was one last series of ripping noises, then a giggle. Yao was still clueless.

"You didn't answer my other question. What are you ripping up?" The Asian asked again. Things were silent on the other end of the line for a few moments. He was beginning to wonder if the other nation had hung up on him when he heard his voice.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I have many things to do!" Ivan told him, his tone sounding a bit urgent. Before Yao could protest, he heard the Russian hang up. He gave a sigh of frustration. Just what had that been about? He went to place his own telephone back onto the receiver, but it rang before his hand made it even half way.

"What the hell? He just hung up on me and now he's calling me again!" He said. He picked the phone up once more. "What do you want? Don't call me right back after saying of those weird things!" He snapped.

"Uh… Hello?" He heard from the other end. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment. It was someone else calling on official business. "Is this Mr. China?" The person on the other side questioned.

"Ah! I'm sorry. Yes?" He said, apologizing.

"Well sir, I've just gotten some odd news." The man on the other end told him. "Russia seems to have entered the war with Japan, sir." He said. China's jaw dropped. He stayed silent for a moment, his brain processing the information.

"What? Are you sure?" He asked in disbelief. Ivan had his own problems to deal with right now; Yao didn't think he would just stop to help him out on a whim. "Surely there was some kind of a typo somewhere." Yao told the man on the other side of the call. He heard him flipping through a few sheets of paper.

"No, everything here is correct. I can't find any sign of a misprint." He said. The Asian nation let out a long sigh. He ran his free hand through his hair.

"I don't know what's gotten into him…" He muttered. "Very well. I'll speak with Russia personally about the matter. Thank you for calling."

"Don't mention it sir." The man said. He hung up. Yao let out an angry breath as he hung his own end of the line back onto the receiver. He stood still for a moment.

"What is he thinking?" He shouted, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "That idiot doesn't need to help me, or try to come my rescue like I'm a child! Aiyah!" The Asian spazzed. He stormed to his room, throwing his towel over his shoulder. He quickly pulled on fresh clothes; making sure he picked a soft shirt. Anything else would scratch and irritate his back.

"I'm going over there right now…" He muttered to himself, carefully putting on a top. He hissed a little as the fabric dragged over his wound. The rest of what he pulled on was warm, not suited for the spring air.

He left his home, taking nothing but his coat with him. He was going to give it to that stupid Russian. Who did he think he was? Seriously. Thoughts like these kept buzzing around in his mind like enraged bees.

He was too mad to even acknowledge it- but somewhere, far into the deepest part of his chest, something warm was stirring.

;w; I'm sorry it's so short. I try to make these things longer than 2200 words each, but I just can't! DD: Also, if you're wondering, I'm sorry for not putting 'aru' at the end of China's sentences. I would; but it just seems to add a cracky element to the story; and I'm trying to make this serious XD But anyways, the more reviews the happier I am! Thanks to those of you that have reviewed already. You don't know how much I appreciate it. But I hope you liked it! See ya in chapter three w


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three! Again, thank you all for your reviews TTwTT Also, I guess a little note I should put in here is that in this story, when the nations are interacting on more of a human basis; they refer to each other with human names. But when they're dealing with matters of their nations, they refer to each other as 'Russia' 'China' 'Japan' and their original country names. I hope that clears some things up in the future~

Yao took the train to Ivan's house, feeling the weather become colder and colder as he traveled north. He looked out the window, grass covered in thin frost quickly transforming into vast fields of barren white snow. The sky was grey here, covering the dismal tundra from light. This was one place the sun dared not go Yao figured, as quiet and lonely of an environment as it was.

He was one of the few who got off at the small station. Thankfully once he was there he knew enough of Ivan's language to get himself a ride, and he hopped in a cab. It was about a half hour's drive to the Russian's home, and all the while China stewed over what he was going to tell him. Oh, he was so mad! Did anyone think to ask him whenever an important decision was going to be made? Nooooo, he was just the four-thousand year old kook that-

"Sir. We're here." Yao heard, interrupted from his thoughts. The cabbie had turned around to face him, giving him an odd look. They had come to a halt at the front gates of Russia's huge home.

"Ah! I'm so sorry. I dozed off for a moment." Yao apologized. He paid the cabbie and thanked him for the ride. The car drove off, disappearing into the distance. He stared up at the black iron gates that towered over him, shivering. He pushed them open; knowing Ivan kept them unlocked. If they weren't scared away from the gates and vicious gargoyles; any unwanted intruder would come to face the wrath of Ivan's metal pipe at some point. That man certainly didn't look it; but he as alert as a hungry cat.

Yao pulled his clothes tighter, his nerves jumping as the fabric pressed down on his back. The path to Ivan's house was paved with grey stone. It was a bit scary, with the only sound being his feet walking over the frost coated stone. It seemed like everything was so much quieter when it snowed, Yao thought absent-mindedly. It felt as if you could hear someone drop a pin from a mile away.

He came to Ivan's door, the knocker shaped like the head of a fierce grizzly roaring at him. The ring was hanging from the backs of it's razor sharp fangs. Yao grabbed the metal, feeling like he had gripped a coil of permafrost. He brought it down firmly a few times; waiting for an answer. A few moments passed, and there was nothing. Yao frowned, hitting the door with his fist this time.

"Ivan, I know you're in there! Come out or I'll find a way in!" He shouted. Not even half a second later the door creaked open, revealing the Russian. He was smiling, that scarf still hiding his chin when he was indoors.

"Bolshevik! It is nice to see you." He said. "Come in, come in. I'm sure you are freezing after coming from your home." Ivan told him, motioning for the smaller man to come inside. Yao stepped in gratefully, glad that the other man at least kept his home heated. He was expecting icicles to be hanging from the ceiling like some sort of frozen mansion. Russia led him fairly far into his home, into what Yao supposed was a guest room. There was a hot fire burning, illuminating a few chairs and a couch with an orange light.

"Sit down, I'm sure you did not come all this way into the cold to simply say hello!" Ivan said. Once more Yao did as told. He was foaming at the bit however, ready to tear into Ivan with the sword his tongue could be. But before he could even utter a syllable the Russian spoke again. "You make yourself at home. I'll go make some tea, da? I brought it back from your home." He said, turning and leaving for the kitchen.

Yao's anger subsided a little as the Russian popped out of the room. Ivan was being awfully generous. He had invited him into his home when Yao had shown up there without any warning, brought him in to a nice warm living room, and was now going out of his way to make a cup of tea for the two of them.

Whenever the Russian showed up at Yao's house he was left on his own, or yelled at for intruding depending on what kid of mood the Asian man was in. Ugh, he didn't deserve this. But then maybe Ivan was used to doing things like this? The Baltic nations and his sisters were always with him after all. The house was quiet now however, so Yao figured that the rest of them were out on other business.

A few minutes later the Russian returned with two steaming hot cups of tea, the smell wafting into Yao's nose and making feel like he was in his own home. Ivan sat opposite to him, setting his drink in his lap.

"So, what brings you to my home all of a sudden, little Bolshevik?" The blonde asked, his grin still showing.

Yao had originally planned to scold him right off the bat. He wanted to stand above and shake his finger like an angry mother, telling him that he was a complete moron for making such a rash decision. But the other man had been kind to him, even when Yao was not. He sipped his tea; the hot liquid nearly burning him.

"I… I came to visit." He lied. "I've been lonely I mean. What with you being gone, since spring has come in my home. I know you don't like the warm weather, so it makes sense that you've come back here." He continued on. Russia drank from his own cup, lowering his eyes. He looked at Yao, his violet irises almost catlike from the way he gazed at him.

"You're lying." Ivan said simply. Yao was taken aback. Was he really that bad of a liar? "You came here because you're mad at me for suspending my peace agreement with your brother." He paused, taking another mouthful of tea. He sat it back into his lap, and looked up at Yao with that grin the Asian hated so much. Almost as much as that stupid nickname the Russian had given him.

"Go on then." Ivan told him. "Give me as big of a lecture as you want. I'll sit right here." He said. Yao's mouth dropped open a little. The Asian man let out a long sigh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

"I was." He admitted. "I was going to come over here and ask you what in the hell you were thinking when you did that." He looked down, examining his ever intriguing fingernails. "But when you take me into your home even though I wasn't invited, show kindness to me when I never pay much mind to you while you're at my place, and go out of your way to make tea…. Well, it's kind of hard to stay angry at you." He continued on. He looked back up, meeting the surprised eyes of Ivan. His mouth was slightly ajar as he looked at Yao with disbelief.

Then, he laughed. That goddamned Russian laughed! Yao frowned. "What's so funny about that?" He asked angrily. He was still open to give a good round of verbal abuse if he needed to, and Ivan was testing his luck.

_"Ah, it's nothing." Ivan said with a giggle. "I'm just relieved, that's all. Although, I was looking forward to finally seeing one of the lectures I've heard so much about." He joked. Yao made a noise of frustration, putting his forehead in his palm._

_"Trust me, you wouldn't want to be the one being lectured." The Asian told him, smiling himself. Suddenly if felt like there was something rusting in his chest. It was warm; and Yao pushed it away. He noticed it this time though, thinking in the back of his mind that the tea was making him feel strange. _

"I'm glad. It's not often I'm able to bring a friend into my home. Most are too intimidated by the cold to even think about making the trip." Ivan said. The thing crawling around in his chest wriggled from Yao's repression. What kind of tea had the Ivan made? He took another sip. It seemed normal... He told himself that he was just feeling funny because of the weather.

"I'm hard to intimidate when I'm angry!" Yao told him. His mood from before had lifted. He felt relaxed and welcomed rather than bitter and irritated.

"Let me show you my home, Bolshevik." Ivan said, more as a command that a request. Yao nodded, and stood. The Russian's scarf billowed behind him as he moved, as if there was a perpetual draft of wind moving it. He led the Asian out of the room, leading him into a different part of the house.

Ivan's home was huge. Yao thought it just went on and on forever as they went through hallway upon hallway, room upon room. Many of these were empty, others were storage, and some were the bedrooms of himself, his sisters and the three Baltic nations. But besides the general size of the house itself, there wasn't much. The halls weren't lavish or extravagant like the ones in Francis' home, and it wasn't riddled with historical artifacts and other such nonsense like Arthur's. There was the occasional painting on the wall, and the odd uniform that had been left to hand. But otherwise, Ivan's home was only unique in size.

By the time their little touring session had ended, it was far too late for Yao to return home. The night was cold and black, and only the moon had the power to shine through the everlasting cloud cover. The Asian was planning to ask for a ride to a nearby inn, but Ivan insisted that he stayed in one of his guest rooms. Yao agreed, and was shown to a room they had passed earlier. It was just down the hall from the Russian's own dwellings, even closer to his room than any of the other members of his home. Speaking of which, none of them had returned. Yao shrugged the thought off, becoming more concerned with the fact that he had to wear the same clothing over the next day.

The Asian nation stepped out of his clothes, stripping himself bare so that his clothing wouldn't be as dirty the next day. The cool air made the nerves on his wound tingle, and he shivered. He buried himself beneath the heavy comforter, warmth surrounding him. He thanked the gods that he was spared the pain of the night before. He felt fine, his back brining him not a single shred of discomfort.

He sleepily wondered if the Russian was faring as well, since it was likely that his forces were descending onto his brother at that very moment. He frowned. That weird sensation had made itself apparent again. He wondered if he was sick, what with the feeling persisting like this. Sighing, he forced himself out of the warm bed. He pulled on his pants and trodded down the hallway to the toilet.

A few minutes later he had finished with his business and returned to his borrowed room. Nothing. Whatever the sensation was, it was still fumbling around inside of him. He finally assured himself that it had something to due with Ivan's actions concerning Japan. That had to be it. Thoughts buzzed around in his head for a while longer, accompanying the stirring in his chest. Finally, he found sleep; dozing off as the feeling inside of him came to rest itself.

…

The next morning Yao awoke with a bit of confusion, taking a moment to muster up his thoughts and realize that he had spent the night at Ivan's home the night before. He was nice and warm beneath the covers, and he felt goose bumps spring up all over his body as he lifted them off. The fires from the night before must have died out, leaving the house cold. He forced himself to leave the mattress, pulling on his clothes. They had chilled with the air; and he rubbed them in attempt to make heat through friction.

His heart leapt into his ears as the smell of smoke hit his nostrils. He jumped out of the room, running towards the source of the smog filling the hallway. He could hear the Russian coughing and hacking; and as Yao turned the corner he came to a dead stop.

Ivan was kneeling in front of the fireplace, billowing black smoke coming out of the hearth. Yao shook his head. The man was obviously having trouble with starting the fire; smoking out the whole house in the process. Yao came to kneel beside him.

"Here, let me show you how to do this right before you choke yourself to death!" He said, grabbing the poker from him. The Russian looked surprised as Yao joined him in the cloud of smoke. He watched as the Asian pushed the smoldering logs farther back into the fireplace. "First of all, you have to make sure that the logs aren't so close to the edge. Otherwise the smoke can't go up the chimney." He said, starting to rearrange the pieces of wood. "Second, you have to make sure oxygen can get into the middle. Otherwise the fire will go out completely." He made a space between the logs, and blew on them. The fire ignited, sending a wave of heat towards them.

Yao straightened himself, dusting his clothes off with his hands. He smiled at Ivan, who was now towering over him once more. He could feel the heat from the freshly made fire wash over them both, proceeding to send warmth into the rest of the room. "That's much better. I thought you would have known how to start a fire, with since there are so many fireplaces here." Yao said. Ivan looked into the orange flame.

"I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night." The Russian said, blankly staring into the flame. Yao felt a pang of guilt; and turned his head away. Ivan noticed this, and gave him a reassuring look. "It's no fault of yours, little Bolshevik. I made my own decision, da?" He told the smaller nation. "I'd gladly trade my sleep for your painful night." He said, grinning at Yao.

The Asian man stared into the orange glow of the hearth as well, a grimace coming to cross his face. "You should have left me alone. I can deal with him on my own." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Ivan seemed to ignore him, the same expression still plastered on his face. He grabbed Yao's hand, and the smaller man jumped.

"Bolshevik. There is something I would like to show you before you return to your own home." He said. Yao gave him a questioning look before he was yanked away. He gave a small noise of protest, trying to break free of Ivan's grasp; but to no avail. He was pulled halfway through the house and out one of the rear doors. The Russian's land was vast and wide, seeming to go on into the horizon and beyond.

Yao had long since ceased to struggle, allowing the Russian to lead him on with their hands wrapped together. By this point the Asian was curious as to where he was being led. There was obviously nothing out here but snow! But there was no telling with Ivan. For all Yao knew he was probably going to be shown an odd shaped rock in the snow.

But, as they continued on, it became apparent that they were approaching a steep hill; if not a cliff. The approached closer and closer, and Yao could see farther past the drop off. Ivan finally came to a stop when they were at the very edge. Yao furrowed his brows. What in the world was at the bottom? It looked like a thicket of some kind of weird plant… As realization hit him; Yao gasped.

Sunflowers.

Hundreds upon hundreds of sunflowers stood at the bottom of the hill; each and every one of them withered and dead. They hung over themselves; their once proud and tall forms having given up hope. Now they were weighed down with icicles; their petal-less blooms reaching farther and farther down to the icy earth below. Ivan was staring out at them with an almost loving look in his eyes. He turned to Yao, the same look in his eyes.

"Wang Yao, have you heard that the spirit of a sunflower will head for the sun after blooming, but before it can reach it, the sunflower will wither and its spirit will die along with it?" He asked. Yao shook his head in a silent no. They looked out once more into the vast field of frozen flowers. Yao frowned.

"Seeking it's own death…" He muttered. "How stupid." He said. Ivan continued to gaze out into the plain; sighing.

"Yes, it is. You see; these acres of withered sunflowers…" He dropped off. Yao looked up at him, the giant's eyes looking far away from this death-ridden place.

"Won't it be fine if they don't do so?" Yao asked him. Ivan tore his gaze from the field below, coming to look directly into the Asian's eyes.

"No." He said simply. "If they don't go after the sun, they are no different from dead even if they are still alive." He told Yao. The Asian looked back out to the flowers. It was almost if he expected one, just one of thousands, to still be reaching for the sun like Ivan had said. But before the two of them lie only death and tales of long ago suffering as these once beautiful blossoms wilted and froze; unable to even rot due to the cold.

That feeling was stirring inside of Yao again, as he stared into the vast reaches of withered stalks. This time it felt like it was taking over him completely; and he wondered if he was going to be sick. It caused a sudden sense of warmth to wash over him, despite the freezing temperature.

He turned his gaze to the taller nation once more. He noticed how his hair seemed to give off a yellow glow against his skin; as white as the snow around them. His dark purple irises tore through the rest of him; being the only things that had color. Everything about him, besides perhaps his clothing, was pale. His hand was ungloved; and Yao reached out to take it, so he could feel the pale flesh for himself.

Ivan looked down at the Asian man with surprise as he took his hand; intertwining their fingers together. He believed that the smaller man was going it for warmth. Those tiny fingers of his had to be freezing, he thought to himself.

The Asian man silently examined the feel of Ivan's skin. Despite the many years of work and hardship, his hands were soft. He was surprised to find that they were warm, when he had expected them to be as icy as the world around them.

The odd feeling coursed through him, causing his stomach to flip over itself and his head to spin. At last, whatever it was that was fumbling around inside of him wrapped itself around his heart. It was beating fast, as if trying to fight off what had captured it within its feathery grasp. Yao let his mouth drop open a little.

He wasn't sick, or unwell. This feeling inside of him had absolutely nothing to do with Russian advances on Japan. Nor did it have anything to do with what was happening to the people and government of his nation at this very moment. As he felt his heart become smothered in the sensation, he knew that this had nothing to do with anything besides himself.

Wang Yao had fallen in love.

-w- How's that guys? I'm sorry if I jumped the gun a little on using a quote from the MAD already; but I had this scene planned out in my mind so well! But, the quote does not belong to me. It belongs to whomever made the original story/ the one who made the MAD. But please tell me what you thought! More reviews equals faster updates~ Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

TT3TT More thanks to those of you out there who are reading this! Sorry it's a bit late… And quadruple thanks to those of you who have left reviews! Here's chapter four for you, I hope you enjoy!

Yao didn't linger in Ivan's home for very long after his experience outside. He caught the first train back to his own home; trying to hide his hurry. He didn't say much to Ivan, the monstrous affection wrapping itself around his lungs whenever he tried to speak to the other man.

During the long train ride back home, Yao's mind felt like it had turned into a swarm of maddened hornets. He was one of few to board the locomotive, and he figured that those who came and went from this desolate region were few and far between.

He paid no mind to the landscape that rolled past, the layers of icy permafrost fizzling away to make room for fields of blossoming flowers. His hands were constantly flying into his hair, a sort of nervous habit he had developed throughout his long life. Whenever a situation stressed him, he would run his hands through his hair in a vain attempt to soothe his nerves. He wrapped his fingers around the black strands, trying to be inconspicuous so he wouldn't look like a madman in front of the other passengers.

He fidgeted uncomfortably, his mind swirling with images of Ivan. His words as they stood over the masses of frozen blossoms were echoing through his mind, as were the feel of his huge palm as he entwined their fingers together, and the unexpected warmth they brought to him. The climate also grew a little warmer every moment as the train took him from the perpetual winter of the tundra to the green spring that had blossomed in his home.

The sun was descending when he arrived at his final destination, coloring the blue sky shades of orange and pink. As Yao walked through the station, he faintly noticed the substantial difference in the number of people boarding and exiting the train that he had taken.

By the time he had hailed a cab and made it back to his house, the orange was retreating; being devoured by the black jaws of night. His first instinct was to go to his room and flop onto his bed, but upon entering his bedchamber he realized that his mattress had been stripped bare. His bloodied sheets were still in the washroom. He let out a long, tired sigh.

Yao exited his room, proceeding to leave the inside of his home as well. Outside he kept a small garden; comprised of a few bushes covered in fresh pink buds, as well as a tiny pond. A few stray lilypads floated on the surface, but they hadn't blossomed quite yet.

He stripped himself of the clothing that covered his torso, laying it down in the grass. It couldn't get any dirtier after two days of use he thought, lying down on top of it. The sun had retired for the night, leaving the moon to guard the sky in its stead. Yao stared up at the stars, a pleasant breeze blowing over his body. The night was clear and beautiful.

Yao allowed his eyes to close, and he gave a frustrated groan. Why had something like this happened to him? HOW had this happened to him? He couldn't even think of any plausible reason to be attracted to the mean. Well, besides his beautiful violet eyes, and the way his yellow hair just barely stood out against the snow, the feeling of a warm touch meeting his own…

Yao shot up off of the grass. What the hell was he thinking? All of that was ridiculous! He flopped back down onto his shirt; covering his face with his palms. He was hopeless. Every single time the Russian passed through his mind something inside of his body twisted and turned.

He took his hands away, staring up at the stars that littered the night sky. His heart was thudding against his ribs like a war drum, sending the vibrations all the way up to his ears and back. He shook the thoughts off and tried to relax. He allowed his breathing pattern to calm, all the while promising himself that he wouldn't fall asleep outside. However, it was not long before he found himself letting his eyes slip to a close. Almost instantly he was off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

…

Yao felt warm. There was the most pleasant heat he'd ever experienced covering his body; almost like he was lying on the beach on a mild summer day. He shifted a little, just now returning to consciousness.

He tried to get up, still too sleepy to open his eyes. Something kept him in place though. It was heavy; and it felt as if Yao was being deliberately held by it. It wasn't threatening though. If anything, the Asian man felt safe under this warm pressure. He finally willed himself into opening his eyes, looking at the thing that was holding him down. It was… An arm? He trailed his gaze up the limb, the shoulder, the neck; meeting a familiar face. It was none other than Ivan, sleeping peacefully beside him. His chest was bare, and Yao watched as it slowly rose and fell with every deep breath the giant took.

He didn't jump, didn't panic. He actually felt happy when he saw the Russian resting beside him, keeping him warm within his grasp. He felt safe, like nothing in the world could harm him right now. He found himself cuddling up closer to the man, wrapping his own arms around his huge frame. His bare torso was almost as soft as the sheets around them, despite the tracery of scars that marred his pale flesh. He felt himself falling asleep when once again when something hit him.

Wait a moment. He had fallen asleep outsi-

…

Yao shot up, his heart thudding in his chest like a kettle drum as the dream seared itself into his memory. The feeling of security and happiness had been replaced by one of revulsion and shock. He could not _believe_ that he had dreamt of such a thing. He let himself lie back onto his coat. The sun was rising, reasserting itself as ruler of the sky. The Chinese man let his heart return to its normal rhythmic pulse, watching the sky fade from black to orange.

All the while, thoughts of that dream and his newfound feelings for the object of that dream swirled throughout his mind. He tried to shove it down, to choke and kill the emotion that had settled within his heart. It was no use. He let out a long sigh, and got up. Those bloodied sheets weren't going to wash themselves. He grabbed his shirt, figuring he'd clean it as well.

He made his way into the laundry room, returning to the sight of his blood coated sheets. The room smelled sour, and he covered his nose. He opened the door, fanning some of the air out. It was going to need a few minutes before the smell dissipated. It gave him another reason to put off washing his sheets he supposed. He figured he'd sit down for a few minutes, and try to sort out all of the things running through his head.

He curled up in his favorite chair, one with a soft cushion that eased his muscles on nights when his back throbbed in pain. He sat back, settling himself in the seat. He sighed, and proceeded to put his head in his hand. He knew what he felt in his heart was affection. But was it really love? He had been around a long time, and had many lovers, but in this early state it was hard to tell if he was in love or simply infatuated. There was so much tension; all rapidly building up inside of him, a bubbling mixture of stress and emotion and confusion… Oh god, he couldn't take it anymore.

Now that he was thinking about it all, the tension had started increasing. It was growing stronger and more fervent; causing a sudden heat to pool into the depths of his abdomen. His cheeks flushed pink, and he shifted in his seat. He tried his best to ignore the feeling, to just let it go away on its own. He kept shifting and shuffling uncomfortably, his body growing warm. He bit his lip. "Just once… I'll do this, just once…" He assured himself.

Yao took a deep breath, relaxing his body. He let his head sink back into the chair, untied his ponytail, and let his legs stretch out. He filled his mind with images of Ivan, burning the sight of his pale form into his mind. He let out a long sigh, letting feelings of lust and passion take over him. He couldn't stand it. He knew this was so wrong, so disgusting, so terrible… But there was he needed more than to relieve the tensions that plagued him.

Slowly, silently, he let his fingers slip past the hem of his pants.

…

Months later, in the sunny days of August, Wang Yao was relaxed and at ease. For the first few weeks following that morning, he was plagued with frustration and confusion concerning the emotions he was experiencing. He didn't commit that shameful act just once as he'd promised himself, much to his embarrassment.

But Ivan finally shook himself of his frozen home, and returned to his routine of visiting the Asian man on no less than a weekly basis. At first Yao found it difficult to be around him, but after seeing him enough; the feelings faded. They never disappeared, just sat in the back of his mind.

Also, ever since that day, his wound had stopped throbbing and pulsing and tearing his body apart with pain. Every now and again it would hurt just enough to annoy him; but nothing more. It had even started to heal, the angry red mark growing smaller as time passed by. However, he knew that the scar would forever remain. It would serve as a reminder to his brother's bitter betrayal, no matter how hard he tried to forget once this blew over. Nations could remain mad at each other for hundreds of years, but they never truly remained as enemies to each other. Well, except for Arthur and Francis. Those two westerners never knew when to quit! They were like children.

On this particular day, Ivan had retreated to his frozen manor. Yao was enjoying the solitude. There were things he just couldn't attend to whilst Ivan was following him around like a puppy. The day was bright, so he pulled on a pair of gloves and set out to the garden with a pail.

He had planted some vegetables along with the flowers and bushes in his garden. Every few days he would come out and remove all of the vile weeds that had grown in amongst them, and when he returned they were always back at full force. He was constantly at war with the pesky plants, which seemed to find his vegetable patch the most convenient place to take root in. He yanked one out of the ground, tossing it in with the others. He wiped some of the dirt from his sleeve, cursing the weeds.

Yao sighed, taking a short moment to look up at the fluffy clouds rolling by. He smiled. "Beautiful day isn't it?" He asked, turning to look over his shoulder. He stopped himself halfway however. Oh yeah, he thought. Nobody there.

The Asian man growled in frustration. Damnit, he was getting much too used to Ivan's constant company. That infuriating Russian was like a weed. He invaded and took root wherever you didn't want him to. The only problem was that Yao couldn't get rid of him by plucking him out of the ground. If only things were that easy!

But then, he thought somewhere in the back of his mind. Ivan was kind of like a flower at the same time. Like a dandelion of sorts. When you go to pull it from the ground, you know that it's a weed that's killing your garden… But at the same time, it's a pretty little flower that never committed any wrong.

Yao shook his head back and forth, trying to rid himself of the thought. He would pull the dandelion out of the ground anyway! Sure, he may feel bad about it later, but he reminded himself that it was still a weed.

He let out a sigh. What was he doing, comparing Ivan to weeds and flowers? He pressed every thought about him being like something beautiful out of his mind. Those thoughts were few and far-between nowadays, and he did his best to rid his mind of them. He knew with enough effort that he could choke them out completely. But for now, he would have to deal with little reminders of his 'crush', as he referred to it, popping up. Not that he could have a crush. He was four thousand years old! He didn't crush on a person like some kind of fifteen year old school girl!

Yao ripped a weed out of the ground in his frustration, throwing it in with the corpses the others. "God damnit Ivan!" He hissed. "I swear I'm going to kill you for doing this!" The Asian vowed. But then, he'd be too shy about it to even tell Ivan why he was killing him. Yao let his head drop.

"I am fawning over him like a schoolgirl, aren't I?" He whispered in defeat. He yanked a few more weeds out of the ground half-heartedly, finally ripping his gloves off. The rest were small, he thought. They could wait for another day.

He threw the weeds that he had plucked into the waste bin, placing the pail back into the storage closet where it belonged. He placed his gloves inside of it, so he wouldn't lose them before the next time he picked the unwanted plants from his garden.

Yao migrated to the kitchen. He washed the dirt off of his arms and elbows, watching the grime flow down the drain. After he was clean again, he poured himself a tall glass of water. He drank it all down, forgetting how thirsty the sun had made him. The Asian man let out a loud sigh as he finished the glass, setting it down on the counter with an audible 'thunk'. He leaned against the countertop, his hair being blown by the gentle wind that blew in from a window above the sink.

Now he actually felt bad that Ivan was missing out on such a beautiful day. The Giant nation wouldn't think that though. He would prefer a blizzard to the gentle breeze that this day brought with it. Yao guessed he would just have to enjoy it alone.

He jumped. There was a sudden knock at his door. Maybe Ivan had come to enjoy the weather after all? No, he couldn't have, the Asian thought. It would have been impossible for him to return home and come back to Yao's house within such a short span of time. But then, Ivan was capable of doing the impossible if he really set his mind on it.

There was a second knock. Yao figured he might as well go and see who was at the door, instead of just wondering who it was. He replied when a third knock came. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" He said as he made his way to the door.

By this point he had ruled out the possibility that it was Ivan at his door. He had a habit of knocking once. And after that one time, he was kind enough to invite himself into the house. He didn't necessarily care if the door was locked or not, he just came in anyway. Yao had learned that after he found his door lying in shambles one evening.

In the end, he decided that it must be some kind of an official out to get his signature. He opened the door. At first he was confused. He looked straight ahead, and there was nothing there. But when he looked down… Wang Yao's heart stopped beating for a moment.

When he shifted his gaze downwards he met a familiar mop of black hair. One very similar to his own, In fact.

"K-Kiku!" Yao stuttered, taking a frightened step back. "What are you doing here?" He questioned. His heart was thudding powerfully against his ribcage as he stared down at his younger brother. The Japanese man was kneeling on his doorstep, his head bowed. He lifted his head up, staring directly into his older sibling's frightened eyes. He spoke two, small words.

"I surrender."

I hope you guys like it! DX I'm sorry it jumps and skips around so much. I tried to lengthen everything as much as I could but… it's still short. Also, for those who are a little disappointed by the fact that I left out Yao's wank scene; don't worry! There will be plenty of dirty sexy porn by the end of this fanfic. I promise XD. Anyways, keep reviewing! The more you guys review, the more often I update! I love your feedback so much ;w;


	5. Chapter 5

Yao straightened his tie. There were crowds of other people around him, men and women all dressed in formal attire. There was gentle music playing, and the Asian man watched as women's dresses trailed and flew behind them with every step they took on the ballroom floor. Yao himself was located in a desolate corner of the room, idly sipping from a glass of red wine.

After his brother's surrender only mere days before, Russia had decided to throw a party in his mansion to celebrate. There were scores of Chinese and Russians in attendance, most of them officials in the government and military; along with their dates and families. Yao leaned himself against a wall. It brought him no pain; seeing as the wound on his back had at last closed completely. The nasty scar remained however, marring the otherwise flawless flesh.

He hadn't brought a date, or anyone else with him for that matter. He was bored, watching everyone else dancing away to the orchestra that had been brought in for occasion. He looked up at the ceiling, admiring some of the beautiful paintings that adorned it. Ivan's home was truly a palace, he thought. He hadn't seen the Russian. Well, save for his appearance earlier to address everyone in attendance. Since then the giant man had disappeared. Yao unconsciously tapped his feet to the rhythm of the ball music.

"Is something troubling you, Bolshevik?" Yao jumped as Ivan materialized out of nowhere. He was looking down at him with those big violet eyes of his, a bottle of vodka nestled in his right hand. He was wearing a well tailored suit that fit his huge frame perfectly, the fabric a dark shade of black. Over it all was the usual scarf; nestled around his neck and shoulders as it usually was. "I thought you would be happy now that all of the fighting is over. Why don't you try to enjoy yourself? I did throw this party for you after all." The Russian told him.

"I am glad that it's all over." Yao replied. "I'm not one for balls and parties like this though. They never appealed to me." He explained to Ivan. He looked out at all of the couples dancing in the crowd, watching one of the Russian girls stumble over her feet. "I didn't bring anyone to dance with either. I don't think I could ever find a person who would be willing to attend an elegant event such as this with me. I'm too old."

"Parties are very enjoyable, if you open yourself up enough to enjoy them that is." Ivan told him, looking up into the masses as well. After a short moment, he returned his gaze to Yao. "I don't think your age should keep you from having a good time, Bolshevik. I'm sure there are many people who would enjoy dancing with you." He said, taking a swig from his vodka bottle.

The two stood in silence for a moment, listening to the melody coming from the musicians. Yao recognized this as one from a Russian composer; but the Asian man couldn't quite place who it was though. Nonetheless, the piece was masterfully played. Suddenly, Ivan nudged him with a gloved hand. Yao looked up at him.

"How would you like to dance with me, Bolshevik?" The Russian asked him, simply. Yao's face lit up like a candle. He turned his head away, his ebony ponytail whipping over his shoulders as he did so. He wanted to hide his flushed cheeks from Russia's gaze.

"Of course I won't!" He retaliated. "We're both men! Everybody in the room would be staring at us as soon as we started. Besides, two nations shouldn't dance with each other so casually. I don't know what you've got jammed into in that thick skull of yours, asking me something like that." The Asian man told him, bluntly refusing Ivan's offer. He simply would not allow himself to take to the dance floor with the other man, not after all of the effort he had spent in trying to destroy the emotions he harbored for him. He took another sip from his glass.

"Let me rephrase that. You're going Dance with me, little Bolshevik." Ivan said. Yao gave a strangled yelp as Ivan grabbed him by the arm, literally pulling him to the dance floor with him. He tried to break free from the Russian man's grasp, but it was no use. His huge paw was wrapped all the way around his arm, pulling him along like some kind of rag doll.

"Ivan, Ivan! Let me go you stupid Russian!" He protested, clawing at a gloved hand. "I swear, I am going to kill you for this!" He hissed. Ivan laughed, taking yet another gulp of vodka. He led Yao out on to the dance floor, directly into the heart of the dancers shuffling around them. The Asian man's face was still red with embarrassment.

"Don't run away now, Bolshevik. I'll make sure you have fun." Ivan said as he released his grip. He capped his bottle of vodka, slipping the glass container into a huge pocket. Yao wondered if he had ordered his suit with compartments that could easily hide a bottle of alcohol.

His thoughts were interrupted when the other nations took his hands, entwining them together with his own gloved ones. He pulled Yao uncomfortably close, so much though that the smaller man could smell the alcohol on his breath.

They started moving in slow circles, stepping in time with the other members of the crowd. Yao could feel his heart fluttering against his ribcage. He could hear Ivan's as well, slowly pumping blood throughout his body. The Asian man's fingers trembled in the grip they were held in. He looked out of the corner of his eye, worried that they were being watched. He thought that the sight of two men dancing together would disgust everyone else in the room; but not a soul had noticed.

"This is fun, da?" Ivan asked him in the middle of their slow-step. He released one of the other nation's hands, moving it up to the back of his neck.

"What are you doing?" Yao asked him. He felt thick fingers on the base of his skull. They were fiddling with his hair tie, pulling it away from his ebony locks. It was removed away completely; allowing inky tresses to fall over Yao's shoulders.

"Your hair looks so much better when it's not all tied up like that. I like it better this way." The Russian told him. He trapped Yao's fingers between his once more. "Surely it feels better when it's down?"

Yao grinned. "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you're trying to pretend that I'm a woman." He said. He did feel more comfortable now, with silky strands of hair falling down his neck and shoulders.

"Never. I'm not afraid to dance with another man." Ivan told him. Yao gulped as he said the words. He bowed his head, staring down at their feet as they moved. "Does doing this bother you, Bolshevik?" He heard I ask. Yao wanted to snap his head up and shout 'of course it does!' but he kept his eyes low.

"No. I'm fine." He lied. All of the affections he had tried to destroy were coming back full force now. He was so close to Ivan. He could feel his warmth, smell the liquor in his breath, hear the steady drumming of his heart within the depths of his chest. His own organ was fluttering like a canary trapped in a cage. He stiffened a bit as Ivan used a hand to lift his face up; never breaking their dance.

"Bolshevik, I think you are lying to me." He said, looking straight down into Yao's charcoal colored irises. They continued to shuffle in small circles, in time with the music. The Asian's head was still held by a pair of his long fingers. Ivan could see how deep a scarlet the smaller nation's flesh had turned.

"Why would I lie to you?" Yao stated. Ivan removed his hand, returning it to hold the older man's. The Russian smiled.

"You're right. I know you wouldn't do that." He said. Yao thought he was off the hook for a moment, before the taller man spoke again. "Surely there is something wrong with you though. Why else would your face be this color?" He questioned. Yao averted his eyes. "I know. You're drunk, aren't you? I'm sure someone as small as you can't hold their liquor well."

Yao took his chance to hide his true feelings over the matter, stumbling a little. He let an embarrassed expression cross his face. "I was trying to hide it from you. I guess I'm a bad actor." He said.

"Don't say that. I never would have noticed if I hadn't seen your red face." Ivan told him. Once again he broke a hand away, and he pulled his bottle of vodka from his oversized pocket. He undid the cap with the one hand. "Take a drink. You're already drunk, so it can't hurt." He said. Yao looked at the bottle with a look of disgust. He took it with his free hand; and took a small swig. He shook his head afterwards, due to the strength of the alcohol. "Come on, drink up! I promise you'll feel better." Ivan encouraged.

Yao did as told, and took a much larger gulp. The vodka felt like fire as it traveled down his throat, burning its way down until it settled as a pool of fire in his gut. Ivan then took the bottle from him; chugging half of what was left within the container. He gave a loud sigh as he pulled the container away from his lips. He gave a little giggle. "You'll have even more fun if I'm drunk as well." He said.

A few moments afterwards, Yao felt his head do a little spin. The alcohol was quickly making its way into his bloodstream. Ivan had been right before. He was very small, so he had to be careful about the amount of alcohol he absorbed into his system. He stumbled over his own foot accidentally this time. He had taken in way too much drink. His mind was becoming hazy, and he was finding it hard to keep himself balanced. He fell forward, letting himself lean on Ivan's torso. They weren't really moving in circles now; they were just sort of moving in general.

"Come, little Bolshevik. I don't think you can keep yourself balanced enough to dance anymore. I'll take you somewhere where you can sit down." Ivan told him, wobbly himself. Yao nodded. He let Ivan take him away from the dance floor, and then the ballroom entirely. He tripped a decent number of times on his way, only to be caught by the Russian every time.

The pair of nations proceeded to stagger and stumble through a series of halls and corridors before they at last came upon Ivan's bedroom. Once inside, Ivan made sure to lock the door behind them. He didn't want his companion, or himself for that matter, to be seen in such an embarrassing state. Not that any of the party-goers would venture this far into his mansion anyway, but he wanted to be cautious.

Yao didn't wait for any kind of invitation before he sat himself down on Ivan's huge mattress, feeling himself sink into it. He leaned to the side a little as the larger nation took a seat beside him, making a considerably sized dent in the bed. Yao was silent for a moment, and he gave a small hiccup. He bowed his head in embarrassment, his cheeks brighter than ever.

"I'm so sorry Ivan." He apologized. "I'm drunk and I shouldn't be, and I went and made you get drunk too, I'm supposed to be a nation, not some kind of alcoholic and… And…" He trailed off, stumbling over his words. He felt so embarrassed, as well as ashamed of himself right now. He looked up as Ivan placed a huge paw on one of his shoulders.

"You shouldn't worry so much. It's bad for your health." He told the older nation. "I threw such a huge party, and invited all of these people so that you could have fun and enjoy yourself. I know how hard the war was on you, both as a country and a person. You were in so much pain, for such a very long time…" He paused for a short moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from Yao's face. "All I want is to see my little Bolshevik smile for once." He said.

Yao was silent for a moment, as Ivan took his hand away. He gave an intoxicated sort of giggle. "You know what? I think you're right Ivan. I should try to have some more fun!" He announced. He lifted himself up in an attempt to stand, but he wobbled and fell right back onto the mattress where he had been sitting. The Russian laughed as he fell back onto his hind end.

"I'm afraid that you are much too drunk to be going anywhere right now." He told the smaller nation. Although, if he were to stand and attempt to balance himself at that moment; it was more than likely that the same thing would happen to him as well. He looked down at Yao as the man gave another small hiccup. He sat there, just staring at him for a long moment.

Yao quickly took notice of the taller nation's scrutiny. He felt his muscles stiffen as Ivan looked him up and down, ogling at him as if he were some kind of museum piece on display. But before he could make any statement about Ivan's persistent staring, he felt thick fingers in his hair; stroking and petting inky black tresses.

"You know, you really do look better this way Bolshevik. Your hair is so pretty when it's down like this." Ivan complimented him. Yao sat completely still as long fingers explored the back of his skull. "It isn't just your hair that is so beautiful either. Your face, your eyes, your hands, too… Even your lips are pretty. Very, very pretty." Ivan stated. With his fingers still wrapped around soft black strands of hair, he leaned in close.

Yao didn't protest when he first felt Ivan kissing him. The man's lips tasted very strongly of alcohol, but at the same time the Asian man found them to be sweet. For a short moment, he even kissed the other man back. But as the reality of the current situation made it's way into his hazy mind, he used both hands to try and push Ivan away from him. His efforts were in vain, because the larger man simply would not budge. It wasn't until the kiss ended that Yao could finally take his chance to speak.

"Ivan! What do you think you're doing?" He asked, trying to push the other nation away once more. He was kissed again, given no immediate answer. He struggled as Ivan pressed against him, but his brain was slow, and couldn't coordinate his muscles correctly. When the connection between them was broken, Ivan spoke.

"You are so beautiful, little Bolshevik." He said, moving his lips down to gently nip at Yao's earlobe. "I want you…" He muttered, his hot breath heating the skin of Yao's neck. He frowned as the small nation attempted to push him away for a third time.

"No Ivan. Stop this, right now." Yao commanded. "You're drunk, I'm drunk… You aren't thinking clearly." He protested. He jumped as Ivan placed a delicate kiss on his jaw. "Stop that!" He snapped. Ivan smiled, and persisted.

"I thought I heard you say that you wanted to enjoy yourself, da?" He said; his voice husky. "I assure you that you will find this very, very enjoyable Bolshevik. I promise." Ivan said, directly into Yao's ear. He moved his head lower, kissing the nape of his neck this time. Yao gasped.

"No, Ivan. Wait… Stop. Ivan… _Oh, Ivan…"_

KEHEHEHEHE How you like that? There will be sexytiems in the next chapter for you guys! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it 3 Sorry I left out the stuff with Japan; but I put him in there because he was at war with China when he became friends with Russia, and I thought it would fit what I was trying to write. Kiku may show up in later chapters tho~


	6. Chapter 6

"Ivan… Ivan that hurts! Please, take it out…"

"It is alright, my little Bolshevik. You are doing wonderfully right now."

Yao's breath was coming out in hot, ragged breaths. His skin was flushed a soft pink color, and it was slicked with sweat. He gave a strangled yelp as Ivan buried himself deeper into his body. His brown eyes snapped closed and he gripped the sheets to the point where he thought they may tear. As the Russian moved within him, he gave another shout of pain.

"Shh, it is alright. It will feel so much better very soon Bolshevik." Ivan cooed, brushing Yao's face with his thumb. The larger man stayed still, giving Yao a chance to adjust himself to the throbbing heat that was filling him up inside. The smaller man continued to pant and hiss beneath him, gasping every time Ivan shifted himself. He gave a tiny whimper.

"Move. Please, move." He begged, his voice coming out in a ragged whisper. He cried out when Ivan pulled out of him, slowly pressing himself back into Yao's tight heat. The motion was repeated, and eventually a slow rhythm was created between them. The smaller man gasped and shuddered with every thrust into him. He felt like he was going to burst, so full of Ivan's heat.

Yao brought both hands up to his face, covering his charcoal colored eyes from view. He arched his back into a pleasured curve; the pain finally melting away into nothingness. He gave a shout, and this time it was one of pleasure; not pain. Red, throbbing waves of heat and pleasure coursed throughout his body; seeming to invade his very blood and pump through his veins. Yet at the same time, Yao could feel burning tears bubbling into the corners of his eyes.

He gasped as Ivan grasped one of his arms, his ungloved fingers hot against his flesh. "Bolshevik, why are you hiding your eyes from me?" He asked, bringing his thrusts to a stop. "I want to see your face right now."

With that, he pulled one of Yao's hands away from his head. He could see the other man's eyes now, charcoal irises filled with shimmering tears. He looked up at him, the salty tears brimming over onto the flushed skin of his cheeks. Ivan bent down, placing a kiss on his sweat-slicked flesh.

"Why are you crying?" He questioned. "Does it hurt you? I can stop now." He offered. Yao shook his head, taking his hands away from his face entirely.

"N-no!" He made out. He hiccupped through his wet tears. Right now, he wanted more than anything to Ivan how he felt. He wasn't going to deny the emotions. Not now, when his mind was swirling with alcohol and lust. He wanted to cling to the larger man, scream his name and tell him he loved him. But in the back of his mind, he knew that this was sex; and nothing else to Ivan. It couldn't ever be anything like he wished he wished it to be. "Please, keep going! Don't stop…"

Ivan complied. He brought back his slow pace, quickly replacing it with a higher one. Yao's cries grew higher in pitch as he felt Ivan thrusting deep into his body, harder and faster every time. The Russian's voice soon joined his, creating a duet of ecstasy. A burning heat was growing between them, a bright flame of lust and need that would make even hell seem cold. It grew larger and hotter, engulfing them entirely. Their voices melted together into one, exchanging sighs and moans, along with the empty words of affection that cane between them. In one final moment, they burst.

The two nations fell over the edge and onto each other. Their breaths were labored and ragged, coming out in hot pants. No words were exchanged between them, only soft brushes and strokes that said everything. Yao felt his heart collapse, knowing that three unspoken words had slipped away from him as he finally lost himself to sleep.

…

One thought came into Yao's mind when he first regained consciousness the next morning. _Hurt. _Everything was sore, from his throbbing skull to his rear end. Especially his rear end, actually. He let out a tired groan, his hand subconsciously reaching for his back. Thankfully, the scar was still closed; just a patch of rough flesh now. He opened his eyes, hefting himself up onto one elbow.

For a moment, he swore that his heart had stopped beating. Ivan was lying beside him, still held within a peaceful slumber. Yao was panicked for a short moment, before he remembered his recurring dream. This must be another one, he supposed. Visions of waking up next to the Russian in the morning were a common visitor to him at night. This one had just become lucid, meaning he had some control over what happened.

He sat himself back down onto the mattress. He watched Ivan's face, his violet eyes hidden behind snow white lashes. He inched himself closer, so that their noses were only inches apart. He could have purred at the feel of his warm flesh. The giant's heart was thudding away slowly, and Yao enjoyed the soft sound. He sat there for a few moments, silently admiring the man lying with him. He had almost fallen asleep once again, when he let out a small sigh. "You know… I kind of wish that this wasn't a dream for once." He muttered.

He jumped a little when Ivan shifted. He had never done this in one of his dreams before. The larger nation's eyes fluttered open. His violet gaze met Yao's amber one. "What dream…?" He asked, his voice still sounding sleepy.

Yao shot up, a look of horror crossing his face. Ivan blinked at him stupidly for a moment, before his brain managed to collect itself. His eyes widened with sudden realization. Memories of the night before hit the two of them; sending shockwaves throughout their minds.

"Oh my god." Yao said, for lack of a better phrase. Ivan lifted himself up, bringing himself into a sitting position besides him. Burning tears of shame welled up in the corners of Yao's eyes. "Ivan, we had sex last night." He said.

Ivan frowned, silently nodding. "Da. We did." He said. He looked away, too ashamed of himself and his actions the night before to look Yao in the eyes. "Little Bolshevik, I am so sorry." He apologized. Yao shook his head.

"No. Ivan, don't apologize." He said. "The two of us were drunk. It was just a mistake… I share every bit as much of blame as you." He told him. Ivan nodded.

"I suppose you are right." Ivan agreed. They sat in an ominous silence for a few moments, refusing to even look in the other's direction. "We should try to put this incident behind us now. It would be for the best." He suggested. Yao shook his head up and down in silent agreement. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, turning his back to Ivan.

"I'll… I'll go ahead and leave now." Yao said. He gathered up his clothing, strewn about Ivan's bedroom floor. He tried to replace it in the fastest, least awkward way he could. Which unfortunately, was an impossible idea. He was sent all around the room looking for Items of lost clothing. Once he was fully dressed again he went to the door. Ivan spoke then.

"Bolshevik. I would like for you to call me when you return home. I want to know that you made it back safely." He said. Yao took one look over his shoulder, and he nodded. Without saying another word, he left. The door closed with a soft click behind him; and the Russian man was left sitting alone. Ivan stared at the doorway for a moment, before he sat himself back down onto the mattress. It was still warm where Yao had been lying before. He placed a palm on his forehead, and gave a loud sigh. "What have I done…?"

Yao left Ivan's mansion as fast as he could. He was very thankful for the fact that nobody else had decided to spend the night, and had taken to skulking around the wide hallways. He didn't encounter a soul as he made his departure, and he spoke to no one when he boarded the returning train. Whether his mind had gone blank, or if it was simply too full to function, he wasn't sure.

Once he finished his trip and returned home, he made a beeline for his bedroom. He drew the curtains so the setting sun wouldn't peer in on him. He sat down on his mattress, and he couldn't help but think of how different it felt from Ivan's own. He looked down, replaying every second of the night before in his head. Everything from the moment he stepped in the Russian's doors, to the moment he fell asleep in his grasp. Ivan had been so warm, to the point where it felt like his skin was burning beneath his fingers.

Just thinking about it made Yao feel unbearably hot. He couldn't help himself. He sat himself back; sliding his already hardened member out of his pants. He tried to relive the night before; attempting to replicate the feeling of Ivan's hands with his own. He knew it was impossible. His small fingers couldn't hope to copy Ivan's long ones. All he was left with was the memory of his touch. He came with a shuddering cry, a sense of loneliness washing over him.

He let out a loud sob. He knew that every word of affection that had escaped the other nation's lips before were a lie. Just hollow syllables created by lust and drink, and nothing more. They could never be anything more. "God damnit!" He shouted at no one.

"Ivan…" His voice dropped to a soft whisper. "Oh god, I love you." He said, admitting it for the very first time. His confession didn't make him feel better. He ran a hand through his hair, still undone.

He remembered Ivan's request from that morning. He didn't want to talk to him right now, but he definitely didn't want to make the other man worry over him. He leveled his breath and composed himself. He went to the telephone, his fingers lingering for a moment before he dialed the number. The phone rang for a long while. He was ready to hang up when he heard a soft clicking noise come from the other end.

"Privyet?" Ivan's voice came from the other end. Just hearing the Russian's voice was enough to make Yao's skin crawl.

"It's me." He made out, assuming that Ivan would know him by voice alone.

"Ah, hello Bolshevik." Ivan greeted him. "I am assuming you made it home safely?" He said. Yao knew Ivan was thousands of miles away; but the tension between them at that moment made it feel like they were inches apart.

"Yeah, I did." Yao replied. "It's nice back here. The weather's warm." He said idly, trying to lessen some of the pressure in the atmosphere.

"It would be much too hot and sticky for me then." Ivan told him. There was a brief moment of silence between them. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked. Yao took his fingers out of his hair. "I didn't… Did I hurt you?" Ivan asked him.

"No, no of course not." Yao told him. He remembered how gentle every touch had been. The taller man had treated him as if he was a piece of brittle glass.

"That's good." The Russian told him. Yao frowned on the other end.

"…Will you talk about it with me?" He asked. He needed so desperately to get it out of his system, out of his head. He got nervous when Ivan didn't reply for a moment.

"Yeah." He said. Yao let out a sigh of relief. "After this, we can forget it ever happened, da?"

"Sure." The Asian told him. He let out a long sigh. "I don't blame you for any of it. You seemed to act like it was your fault earlier." He said. While it was true that Ivan was the one to come onto him first, he let his better judgment slip away from him.

"Yes, I understand. I am only wishing that this won't ruin our friendship." Ivan stated. Yao allowed himself to laugh, just a little bit.

"Don't worry. This isn't the first time this has happened to me you know." He told the Russian. He left out the part that he had never been head over heels with the men, and occasional women, he had slept with after a little too much alcohol.

"The very same is true for me, but I've never made the mistake with a nation like myself." He said. Yao realized that he was right. This is the first time he had been in this situation. "I only hope that you'll forgive me for the whole thing." The Russian said.

"I'll forgive you, if you do the same for me." Yao told him.

"Da. I forgive you as well." Ivan said. Yao felt something pulling at him, knowing that Ivan viewed this as a mistake that wasn't to be spoken of, or repeated. "So we are still friends then?" He heard him ask from the other end of the line.

"Yeah." Yao told him. He curled a strand of hair with his finger again. "I think I should be getting to bed now, it's already dark here." He said.

"Alright then. I'll talk to you later, Bolshevik." Ivan said. Yao spoke before he could take the chance to hang up.

"Hey, Ivan. You're still welcome here." He told him. "Visit any time you want to, alright?" There was silence for a moment. Yao wondered if he had already hung up.

"I'll do that." Ivan told him. The Asian nation heard a soft click come from the other side. He let out a long sigh. When he had asked Ivan to talk about it with him, he thought it would have made things much less awkward. But right now, he felt like he had made the whole situation much worse. He gently placed the phone back on the receiver. For a short moment, he looked to the chair in the room where he stood. It was the same one he'd released his pent up passions in for the first time.

He sat down in it, frowning. It felt the same. There was nothing different about it, now that he had committed such a sin filled act upon it. His heart however, wasn't as lucky. Ever since last night, he had felt poisoned with the emotions he felt. They kept the inside of his chest clutched tightly. He left the room, moving instead to his own. It was humid outside right now, so he decided to throw the curtains wide open so that he could view the night sky.

The evening was beautiful, he thought. He would have much rather been lying outside right now, as he often did, but it was too sticky. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and the Moon was only a sliver. The stars were being counted upon to light the sky tonight, and they sparkled brighter than ever before. If only for the smallest moment, he felt content. He looked up as he saw something odd. Out of the very corners of his eye something shimmered.

Then, he saw it. The briefest flash of light, darting through the night sky. One of the stars had given up and fallen, and he had been lucky enough to see it. He remembered the old saying, that if you saw a falling star you were supposed to make a wish. He couldn't even remember who told him that. It had been so very long ago. Wishes couldn't come true just because you saw a flash of light. It was impossible. But even so, he closed his eyes and thought.

"I don't know what to wish for…" He muttered to himself. He gave the thought another long moment, and smiled. "I'll test this out, I suppose. I'll make a wish no star could ever grant." He said. He took a deep breath, and looked up at where he had seen the star coming shooting down.

"I wish that Ivan would love me back."

Screw it. I'm not editing this XD I had no idea what to do with this chapter after the smut! So everything afterwards is kind of crappy…. But I hope you guys enjoyed the naughty bits! It was fun to write them w Don't worry, I have plenty of ideas for the next chapter. So please, tell me what you thought by reviewing!


	7. Chapter 7

Summer ended. With it's disappearance came the mild days of autumn. The leaves became orange; and the days became shorter and shorter. It was a slow time for Yao; one where he could sit back and relax. He would watch the leaves fall during the day, and the stars glimmer at night. Things were quiet and peaceful; and he loved every moment of it.

His relations with Ivan had bettered as well. After one week of worrying and fretting; the man showed up at his door one afternoon. Yao welcomed him in for the first time in ages. They had sat together and been friendly, sharing stories of their pasts over hot tea. It made the Chinese man's heart melt to act with him on such a friendly basis.

The Russian came from time to time while it was hot, dropping a call every now and again. Yao treated him like a friend now that he had accepted his feelings for him, and it was much less stressful. Trying to distance himself from him only made matters worse. Regular contact certainly didn't make the emotions go away; but they were easier to deal with. Ivan visited more and more frequently as things cooled down; and the pleasant fall temperatures set in.

Yao felt happy. The season was beautiful, and he was able to share it with someone he loved, even though it was one sided. Being with Ivan on a friendship basis felt good. He had even talked to his brother, a few times. It would be a very log while before he could trust him again, and he would never allow himself to get too close. But Kiku was his oldest family; and he didn't wish to remain angry at him forever. Sure he was stubborn, but not that stubborn.

But, the days grew shorter, and the temperatures grew lower. October faded into November, and those days into December. Things grew icy and cold; and Yao's world was enveloped in white snow. With the snow came Ivan. It was very hard to get him to leave; and he had the tendency to stay for days at a time. Not that Yao was complaining, really. It was nice to live with another person, so he wouldn't feel alone. One day, a thought came into Yao's mind.

"Hey, Ivan." He asked. The Russian looked up from where he was sitting, his ears open. Yao looked back at him, never stopping his motions to massage the dough in his hands. "You have two sisters at home, don't you?" He questioned.

"Da. I do. Belarus and Ukraine." Ivan said, using their nation names so Yao could recognize them. "Tell me, why do you ask?" He said curiously.

"Well, the two of them live with you don't they? Don't you worry about two girls being alone I that big house?" He asked him. He pulled the ingredients he's put together out bit by bit, filling the breading that he had made. Ivan shook his head.

"Not really. They may look frail and delicate, especially as female nations… But they are both very strong. Especially Natalia!" He said, shivering as he muttered his younger sister's name. "If anything ever happened to them while I was away; they would have no problem fending for themselves." He told his companion.

"I see." Yao said, bending over to slide his pan into the oven. "It's been such a long time since I've had any siblings that lived with me…" He said, looking back on the time where all of his younger siblings, just children at the time, had lived with him happily. But one by one they left him; turning their backs and leaving him alone. The last one had been Kiku. But he told himself not to think about that anymore. "They were younger than me though. I've never had anyone to look up to. I've always been the oldest. Ever since I can remember."

"I can't imagine what that's like." Ivan replied. "I've always had someone older than me to look to. Whether it was Ukraine or Winter, there was always somebody." He said. "I suppose I did have to look after Belarus when she was very little, but her personality made her more mature when she got older." He informed the other man. Natalia had bee more of an adult do to harsh conditions, but even today she could act just like a child.

"Where were they when I visited?" Yao asked him; peeking inside of the oven. "I've been there a few times, and I haven't seen either of them."

"It's a big house, as you know. They can't tell if I have a person over or not because it's impossible to hear through the many walls. They tend to stay in their own little sections, as do I. It's almost like we don't even live in the same house together, except for when we run into each other in the kitchen sometimes." Ivan explained to him.

"Really? I thought you three lived together like you're in the same house, not different ones." Yao said. He couldn't imagine living so close, and yet so far apart to someone who shared the same house with him. Even if it was one as huge as Ivan's.

"We used to be very close actually, but we've started to drift away from one another over the years I'm afraid." The Russian said. "The Baltic states live with them while I'm away, anyhow." He informed the other man. "I leave the house to them, and they take very good care of it."

"I never knew that." Yao said. "I guess that's the benefit of your soviet union. You have five other nations to depend on when you need them."

"I wouldn't say that. They depend on me more than anything." Ivan said, quietly. His head perked up. The smell of the hot buns in the oven hit his nostrils. "Ah, they're almost done, da?"

"I think so. You're the expert on these things after all." He said, looking in at the meat stuffed buns. They were a golden brown color. He grabbed his mitt to pull them out. "What are they again? Pirakizi?" He inquired as he took them from the heat, them smell wafting from them in clouds of steam. Ivan laughed.

"Pirozhki. They're delicious." He said. "I knew that you would make them perfect o the first try. You are a very good cook. All I know how to make is cold soup!" He told the smaller man. They did look delicious. He took a whiff. "Perfect."

"I'm not that good. The food I make isn't anywhere near the likes of Francis, or Feliciano." He said. "I just don't have the magic touch as the western nations seem to." Yao said, setting the oven so that it could cool down. "Go ahead, take some. I made them with the recipe that you brought over."

"Gladly." Ivan said. Yao had prepared plates for them earlier; and he scooped some of the hot rolls onto it. He sat back down at the table, waiting for the Chinese man to get situated before taking a bite. "They're amazing, Bolshevik!" He said, his mouth full. Yao took a bite, the hot inside nearly burning his tongue.

"They are very good. I added a few spices to the mix." He said. "I hope you don't mind." He apologized, taking another bite.

"Not at all. I thought these couldn't possibly get ay better until now. Yours are the best." He praised his companion. Yao felt himself blush.

"Stop flattering me Ivan. I'm getting embarrassed."

"What is there to be embarrassed about? One should be complimented when they're able to cook like you can." The Russian said. Yao agreed that they were delicious, but they weren't anything special. Besides, in the end food was food. It's only true purpose was to help a person to survive. What did the taste truly matter?

"Whatever you say Ivan." Yao told him. His cheeks were still a little pink, and he hoped that the other man wouldn't notice. He often found himself being checked for a fever.

Thankfully, their meal went off without any awkward moments. They talked idly, about things that never mattered. They simply tried to enjoy each other's company. When they finished their meal, Yao put the dishes away. Ivan looked out of the window, and he smiled. He pointed outside.

"Bolshevik, come here and look. It's starting to snow again." He said. It was true, as small flurries of snowflakes came drifting to the ground; already covered in a blanket. Yao came to the window as well, looking out at the falling wisps of ice.

"Oh. I guess it is." He said, looking out onto the white world. It looked like the icy plain of Ivan's home. He felt a gloved hand nudge him.

"Come on. Let's go outside." Ivan told him. "It's beautiful out there right now. We can go out into that garden of yours."

"Beautiful? Ivan, it's wet and freezing outside!" He protested. "I won't survive five minutes out there. My clothes aren't very heavy." He told the other man. Ivan took his arm.

"Come on, we'll only be out there for a few minutes. I promise." He told Yao. "If you really feel like you're going to freeze, you can go back inside."

Yao frowned, and then let out a sigh. Ivan could act like a child sometimes, really. "Alright. But just for a few minutes." He said. "Give me a moment. I'll put what I can on before I go out there." He told him, and walked off to his bedroom. He looked through his clothing. Most of it was light, except for the green uniform he wore on formal occasions, such as world conferences. He removed his thin clothing and replaced it with the olive cloth. It was worn and thick, used for the battlefield. He went back to the kitchen, looking around. Ivan was already outside he figured. He turned and left for his frozen garden.

Sure enough; Ivan was already there. He was wearing a soft grin, watching the snow flutter to the ground around him. Yao shivered, and walked over to him. "It's so cold!" He said. Ivan laughed as he watched Yao start to shiver all over.

"Here then." He said, pulling Yao close to him. The smaller man immediately heated up. Ivan let out another chuckle as the Asian nation grew flustered. He put a gloved hand on top of Yao's head, and looked down at him. The older man looked back up, returning the soft look.

Ivan made him feel warm. Yao could hear his heart pumping away in his chest; sending blood throughout his humongous body. The Asian man closed his eyes. He relaxed, letting out a content little sigh. His breath came out in a white cloud of steam, disappearing into nothing. This was the closest he had been to Ivan since that disastrous evening, so many months ago. His emotions crept up on him, becoming engulfed in Ivan's heat.

"Is that better?" The giant questioned, his voice quiet. Yao nodded. "Let's sit down, da? We can watch the snow falling better that way." He said. He moved away, sitting himself on one side of the wooden seat. He patted his hand on the spot next to him; motioning for Yao to come and join him. He obliged, sitting himself down beside him. They were still close, Ivan's warmth keeping the cold at bay.

He looked up, watching the snow fall to the ground. It really was beautiful, he thought. He put his hand out, catching a flake. It sat there for a moment, before melting away into a tiny drop of water in his bare palm. He closed it, feeling warmth return below his fingers.

"I told you it was pretty." Ivan said. "It's fun to see the cold in other parts of the world. The only thing that makes me sad is that it will all melt away after a few months." He told Yao, looking up at the flakes. His violet eyes were shining, perfectly content in a blanket of ice. His skin and hair were pale, blending in with the cold white.

He was beautiful, Yao thought. His heart fluttered, and he simply admired the man sitting beside him. He was huge, and the Asian man knew that he was strong. But in his eyes; he could see something almost delicate that he couldn't place. Maybe it was just the fact that the other man was content here. Yao leaned himself on his shoulder. Ivan looked down at him for a moment, but then returned to his gazing.

He thought back to that night, many months ago. He recalled the shooting star; and the feelings of despair and hopelessness in his heart as he made a wish. The star still hadn't pulled through on him though. For a little while, he had actually expected it to work. But even now, there was nothing. Ivan treated him the same way he always had; Yao had just taken the opportunity to return the kindness. He knew wishing on a star would never work. Wishes didn't come true.

But even so, he loved Ivan. As he sat there, admiring the man and the frozen world around them, his heart was beating peacefully. He nuzzled his head against the taller man's shoulder, a soft smile on his face. He felt perfect, right now. He didn't even pay attention to the fact that he was slowly wrapping his hand in Ivan's, or that the other man didn't mind.

"Hey, Ivan." He said, looking up at him with charcoal eyes. The other man tore his gaze away from the snow, looking down at him.

"Yes? What is it?" He questioned. "Do you want to go back inside now? I'm sure you're cold." He said. Yao shook his head back and forth.

"No, that's not it." The smaller man said, the words falling out of his mouth. He wasn't thinking right now. Everything else was pushing the words from his tongue. "I want to tell you something." He said. He was quiet after that.

"Well, what is it?" Ivan asked him. Yao looked off into the snow for a moment, and then closed his eyes altogether. He took a deep breath.

"I love you."

The words were simple. Just three small syllables that Yao had finally managed to sew together. He had managed to release them after such a terribly long time in captivity. Ivan was silent, and unmoving. Yao didn't open his eyes. For all he knew, Ivan hadn't even heard him.

His lids opened when he felt a warm arm around him, pulling him close. There was a hand in his hair, warm and comforting. A thunderous heart beat was in his ears.

"Me too, little Bolshevik." He heard. Yao couldn't think of anything to do but smile. He felt fingers on his chin, holding him in place. Ivan's lips were on his, applying light pressure. Yao returned the kiss; wrapping his arms around the larger man. He was pulled into Ivan's lap; and kissed again. And again, and again, and again. Yao thought he might die, whether it was from a swollen heart or from the cold. But the arms around him were warm; as was the scarf that had ended up around his neck as well.

He told Ivan he loved him, both in English and Chinese. He would have said it in Russian as well; but he couldn't remember the words. They were just whispers in between kisses, anyways. Ivan's tongue was hot against his own; crawling into the very back of his throat. His mind was in a haze; frozen by the snow. But even so, he couldn't help but let one thought cross through his mind.

Maybe wishes came true after all.

Sorry for lateness! I've been busy! And by that I've been writing other porn, but shush. Sorry for the shortness as well. I just wanted to get this posted XD Remember though, the more you guys review the more eager I am to update! So keep them comiinnngggg~ Also, sexytiems in the next chapter? Or should I make them wait for it? I can't decide….


	8. Chapter 8

Later that same evening, Yao found his lips interlocked with Ivan's once more. In fact, they had hardly untangled from each other since his initial confession only a few hours earlier. They had moved to Yao's bedroom, and were now lying on top of each other in the middle of his mattress. The clothing covering their torsos had been tossed away long ago, to some isolated corner of the Asian's bedroom floor.

Yao broke their current kiss, his breath coming out in pants. Ivan was breathless as well, propped up on his elbows so he wouldn't crush the smaller man. Yao brushed a hand though the Russian's soft blonde hair, looking up into dark violet irises while he tried to regain his breath. In turn, Ivan used a long thumb to rub Yao's cheek. The older smiled, and nuzzled his face against his palm.

Ivan dipped his head down, coming to nip at the sensitive flesh of Yao's neck. The smaller gasped at the feel of teeth just barely grazing his skin. His heart seemed to flutter within his ribcage as Ivan repeated the motion, and Yao let his eyes slip to a close. Ivan was slow with his actions, and gentle. He treated Yao like a porcelain doll. One rough touch could send him shattering into millions of tiny shards. He planted one hand on his hip, rubbing circles into the soft skin.

Yao let out a soft sigh of pleasure, his vocal chords shuddering as he felt a pair of lips on his collarbone. He arched his back just a little bit; reaching up for more of Ivan's touch. His cheeks were growing hotter with ever second that passed, as was the area between his legs. Soon Ivan's lips were on his chest, licking and sucking at the flushed flesh. Yao felt a wave of embarrassment pass over him as he whimpered like a puppy. The mewling noise turned into a sharp gasp as he felt Ivan's tongue around one of his nipples. It was hot and wet, swirling around the pink nub. The other one was being rolled between a pair of thick fingers, in time with the Russian's mouth.

By this point Yao was straining against the fabric of his pants, and judging by the hard thing that seemed to jab him in the side once every few moments, Ivan was as well. Yao cried out as he felt a hand rubbing his arousal, the cloth of his pants rubbing against it. He was hot and throbbing, and he was ready for anything, but something in the back of his mind was starting to flare up.

"Ah… Ivan… Ivan, wait. Stop…" He begged through ragged breaths. The Russian immediately stopped with his ministrations, looking up to see what the problem was. Yao propped himself up on his elbows, and shook his head. "I don't want this. It's too soon." He told the larger man. Ivan sat for a moment, before moving to place a kiss on Yao's forehead.

"Da, I understand." He said. He knew that the older man was probably hesitant after their last encounter of this nature. But Yao didn't want to go the rest of the evening with heaps of sexual tension built up within him, and he was sure that Ivan didn't either.

The Russian gave a gasp of surprise as he felt Yao push him off of his body. He lost his balance; and fell on hi back side. He was about to ask what that had been for when the smaller man crawled into his lap. He made himself comfortable on top of Ivan's thighs, their clothed arousals pressing against one another.

Yao kissed Ivan once more, pulling him in closer. He heard the Russian groan into the kiss as their erections rubbed against one another. Yao started to slowly rock his hips back and forth, pressing their lengths together. Even through his clothing, the friction caused him to let out a deep groan. Ivan broke away, making a similar noise of pleasure. He began to return the motion; grinding into Yao.

"Ah, Bolshevik…" He muttered. Ivan abruptly sank his teeth into the soft area between Yao's neck and shoulder. The smaller cried out as he felt teeth sinking into his flesh. Ivan pulled away, watching as a deep purple love mark began to form on Yao's neck. He moaned, and pointed to the same area on his body. "Bolshevik, I want you to mark me." He commanded.

Yao did as told, and sank his teeth into the crook of the Russian's neck. He was hesitant at first, applying only a soft pressure with his teeth. But when Ivan gave a sharp thrust upwards against his cock, he bit down hard. He stayed for a moment, making sure that the bruise would be deep and purple. He finally broke away with a sharp cry. Ivan gave a sudden squeeze to his member, making him come. He released himself into his clothes, his hips bucking with every spurt. He heard Ivan gasp, and he knew that the other man was spent.

The two nations sat in a panting heap for a moment, regaining their composures. Yao made a noise as he felt Ivan push his face to the side. It left the flesh of his neck exposed, the dark violet mark on his skin still slowly advancing over his collar. He shivered as he felt Ivan's eyes on the mark, observing his symbol of possession over Yao. The smaller man looked out of the corner of his eye, seeing Ivan's own dark mark.

Ivan ran his fingers over the spot, not enough to hurt, but enough to make Yao's skin shiver. He smiled, an odd sort of look in his eyes as he watched the bruised flesh darken. "Now…" He trailed off for a short moment. "You cannot leave me." He said, looking into Yao's amber eyes. "Because there is nobody else except us two."

After hearing Ivan's words, Yao took a moment to better examine the damage he had done to his neck. It was a deep mix of violet and scarlet, with a ring of swollen teeth marks in the very center. It wasn't just a love bite. It was a mark, or a brand of sorts. The throbbing flesh was the signature on a contract of loyalty who's ink would fade with time. But the agreement would always remain, scrawled in unspoken words. Ivan was right. Right now, he couldn't leave him. Because between them, nobody else even existed.

He used one hand to bat at Ivan's ear. "What's with you, saying strange things like that?" Yao asked him. Ivan smiled.

"You're the one being strange, my little Bolshevik." He said. He lifted Yao off of his lap, and sat him down on the mattress. The smaller shifted uncomfortably, the sticky fluid in his underwear starting to go cold. "You start telling me that you don't want to go any further, and then you jump right into my lap."

Yao shifted. "I didn't. I don't want to have actual sex yet." He explained. Ivan pulled him up close. The room was growing darker as the sun began to set, it's light retreating for the evening. In the fading light, he heard the Russian chuckle.

"Don't think that I can't tell when you are lying to me Bolshevik." He said. "You think that I'm going to take advantage of you, da?" Ivan questioned him. Yao shook his head back and forth.

"I told you, that's not it!" He protested. "It's nothing like that." He told the other man, who kept a smile on his lips.

"You are so stubborn, my little Bolshevik." He told the smaller. He kissed him on the lips; running a huge hand through Yao's silky black tresses of hair. "I like that about you." He said. Yao grumbled at his words, his face red in the darkness. "Now, you go and wash yourself. I'm sure those clothes are very uncomfortable by now."

The Chinese man nodded, having grown very uncomfortable as his essence cooled and began to dry on his member. He stood, turning on the light in the corner of the room. He caught a perverted glint in Ivan's eyes as he bent over to hit the switch. He threw the nearest object at him, hitting him in the chest. "That's indecent!" He shouted, leaving the room. He slammed the door behind him in a huff.

He padded down the hallway and to the shower, flipping the light switch. He turned to his reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, examining the love bite on the very crook of his neck. It was a deep shade of purple; it's puffy surface sensitive and throbbing. The red teeth marks were deep; and they stung when he gently ran his fingers across the wound.

Turning away, he stripped himself of the remaining clothing on his body. He cursed himself for forgetting to bring a fresh set of clothes to change into once he was finished washing his body off. He turned the dial so the water would be hot, stepping in under the stream of water.

Being alone gave him time to think, to really assess what had just happened. The day felt like a dream, just some absurd fantasy that his mind was playing about before him. His head was light beneath the hot water and soap suds. The pain in his shoulder was real, as was the memory of Ivan's mouth on his; and his hands on his body.

And, just as Ivan had told him, he was too stubborn to admit that he was terrified. He was afraid that when morning came; Ivan would say that he hadn't meant a word of what he had said that day. That the passion they had shared in the Asian's bed was just a mishap that shouldn't have happened. Maybe it would be easier if he was dreaming. It would have just been a delusion; that couldn't tear his heart into pieces.

He shut the water off, opening the shower door to grab a fluffy towel. He dried himself off until his skin was pink; deciding to go without his sticky undergarments. He left them to sit on the floor, just tossing his pants on. He left the bathroom, taking one last look at Ivan's mark before he flipped the light off. He was a bit nervous as he returned to his bedroom where Ivan was still waiting. He opened the door slowly, taking a gulp as he stepped inside.

Ivan was covered by the comforter, flipping through a book. He looked up as Yao entered the room. The Chinese man looked at the volume curiously.

"You never told me you could read my language." He told him, not moving any closer just yet. He received a grin from the other nation. He closed the book, setting it into his lap.

"I can't. I like looking at all of the strange characters." He told Yao. The smaller man frowned, hopping on top of him for an embrace. He felt Ivan wrap his long arms around him, his bare skin rubbing against Yao's own.

"So you're calling my language strange?" Yao questioned in a huff. Ivan ran a paw across his body, stopping at his tailbone.

"That's not at all what I'm thinking." He told him, kissing the Asian nation once again. "I think it's beautiful, just like you are." He said. Yao pinched him in the side; earning a yelp.

"Stop saying things like that!" He snapped. "You treat me like some kind of woman. It's degrading." He told the Russian, reaching out to switch the light off. Darkness surrounded them, and the air was cold everywhere that their bodies didn't touch each other. Yao sat his head on Ivan's broad chest. He felt fingers in his hair, petting it softly.

"I only tell you the truth Bolshevik." Ivan said, his voice soft. Yao paid no attention, just digging his face into the unmarked nape of the Russian's neck. Ivan couldn't be saying things like that to him. This was just another one of his silly dreams, and he'd wake up as soon as he fell asleep in his fantasy. Ivan would never say he loved him, that he was amazing and beautiful. It was about as likely as man flying past the stars and walking on the surface of the moon. Impossible.

"I love you." Yao muttered, holding the larger man tight. He could feel Ivan smiling into the back of his head; kissing the strands he loved to wrap his fingers around.

"I love you too, my little Bolshevik." He heard the other nation tell him. Yao closed his eyes; kissing the closest piece of flesh. Those words, those three little words… They weren't real. His mind was playing tricks on him again. It was nothing more than that.

He didn't want to wake up. He really, really, didn't want to wake up from this dream. Ivan loved him here. In the real world, that could never happen. He wanted to die so that this dream, this perfect dilusion, would be the last thing he knew. Ivan's arms were around him, his words were in Yao's heart. And as soon as he fell asleep it would all… be ripped… away from him…..

…

Yao returned to consciousness the next morning, never opening his eyes. He was lying on his side, strong arms wrapped around him. He hadn't woken up yet, it seemed. After a few moments he felt the form behind him shift. There was a pair of lips on his ear, and he kept his eyes closed.

"Dobroye utro, Bolshevik." He heard; the voice belonging to Ivan. "Open your eyes, it's time for you to wake up." He said, nuzzling Yao with his cheek. The smaller kept his eyes closed.

"I don't want to wake up." He said simply.

"Why not? The sun has come up." Ivan's voice told him. Yao shook his head back and forth.

"If I wake up here, I'll wake up in real life." Yao replied. He was still blind, only able to feel flesh on his own; and hear the Russian's voice in his ear.

"I don't know what you mean Bolshevik." Ivan said. Yao shifted in the larger man's grasp.

"I know this is a dream." He said. " Ivan would never love me. He wouldn't say things like he does in these fantasies. This is just another one of them…" He trailed off for a short moment. "I don't want to wake up from this one. I want to stay where there is no one else but us. If I open my eyes now, I'll wake up alone."

"Ah, but if you turn to face me now, you'll know that this isn't a dream." Ivan told him, turning Yao's head to face his own. "I do love you in real life, and I like to say whatever it is I say in your dreams." He said. "Now, open your eyes Bolshevik."

Yao hesitated for a moment; but opened up his eyelids. He met Ivan's face, looking down at him with a smile. He blinked, making sure that he was really conscious. He smiled as he realized that Ivan's voice was real, and his touch was no imagination. He held the Russian close to him; earning a small chuckle from the larger of the two.

He was here, in Yao's bed; petting his hair and keeping a protective grip around his form. This Ivan wasn't the product of exhaustion. He seemed to destroy everything around them, making it so that not a single soul existed besides them. There was nowhere, and there was nothing. It was as the Russian had said earlier. There was nothing else but those two.

I KNOW IT'S LATE I'M SORRY. I'm gonna give the classic 'school's started' excuse. I have no time, and I can't find a damn thing as far as relations between Russia and china during the cold war before 1991, which will be the end of this story. And I want to put at least a little more in here before I really get into the stuff in the video. Any help on the historical stuff would be loved! Also, please leave me many reviews for the sexytimes 3 XD THEY WILL HAVE SEX AT SOME POINT. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Much to both Ivan and Yao's discontent, the Russian nation had to depart back to his home later that day. As soon as Ivan shut the door behind him, Yao leaned back onto the wall and sank to the ground. He put a hand on his forehead, still in shock. He and Ivan had slept with each other just that night… It was so much to take in in the span of a few small hours. He was happy to receive a phone call from the other man later that day, notifying him that he had managed to return home safely. He told him he would visit again as soon as possible, but things were starting to pop up everywhere. He was having an unspoken argument with Alfred, his nation trying to make more powerful weapons in higher numbers than the American could. They never faced or spoke to one another; just stood on either side of the huge wall of tension.

A week passed, then one month, and then six. Things grew more intense between Ivan and Alfred; and Yao felt loneliness creep up on him, increasing every moment Ivan was away. Phone calls became short and far apart. Yao was left with nothing but his imagination; making him cry out every night as he imagined Ivan holding his smaller form close. But as he would reach his peak; the vision would fade and Ivan's image would disappear. He missed him; feeling like he'd been ripped away the moment he had confessed his feelings. But then, he would have continued to wait if he hadn't said something then. He didn't think that he could handle it.

It was warm now; which made the chances of a visit from Ivan very slim. The Russian hated the heat, and wouldn't come often even without his feud with Alfred growing more intense by the second. Yao would have gathered his things and visited the other nation's home in the Russian cold; but it seemed Ivan was just too busy. Also, he had informed the Asian during a phone call about three months back that he had added five people to his home. His sisters, Natalia and Yekaterina; as well as the three Baltic nations, Eduard, Raivis and Toris. He said that his home was large, and that the other nations of the Soviet union should share it with him if they were truly one.

So, while Ivan shared his life with five other people; Yao was left alone. So very, very alone. Maybe Ivan wasn't really as busy as he said, and he was just trying to avoid him? He could think that the Chinese man was crazy for loving him, and be distancing himself from him. Or maybe he just wanted to use him; and he didn't really mean anything he had said the last time they had seen one another. Just the thought was driving him crazy!

To keep his mind off of those matters Yao tried to give himself more to do. But simple household chores simply weren't enough to keep him occupied for most of the da By the end of it all he couldn't think of much else to do besides sit around and think of Ivan.

When spring came, he gathered all sorts of different seeds and bulbs. He planted them all early in the springtime; and by the time summer finally rolled around the number of plants and bushes in his garden had expanded by at least six times it's previous size. He again felt like a woman for doing something like tending to his vegetables to waste the day away.

He had added all sorts of new edible shrubs. He had even gotten his hands on potato seeds, and he planted them just so he would have something else to tend to every day. Just a few minutes ripped away from his day for something he didn't even like that much.

In addition, he had found many new types of flowers to cultivate; some bushes, some in hanging pots, and others just shooting out of the ground to meet the sun. The blossoms came in many colors and sizes, threatened by the weeds that Yao fought a never ending war against. But above all of the life in his garden, there was one flower that he treasured above all of the others.

He came upon a small bag of sunflower seeds one day; and decided to plant them with the thought that they would remind him of Ivan. They were tall and strong, just like the Russian was. But sadly, Yao had no idea how to properly care for and water the seeds he had planted; so each of the several dozen grew to the height of his knee before they gave up. They withered and died, sinking back into the earth from where they had come. But one stood above the rest of them, growing like Jack's beanstalk above it's dying brothers. It grew far above Yao's head, it's golden petals rising farther and farther towards the warmth of the sun it longed for.

Yao paid special attention to this flower, making sure that it was always watered and healthy. He had also heard that speaking to your plants on a regular basis was good for their health. He felt more than a little awkward at first, as he introduced himself to the sunflower one day. But simple words turned into sentences, and sentences into one-sided conversations between the two of them. He figured that he should name it, so that he could properly address it while he spoke. So, for lack of a better title, he named the blossom Ivan. That way it would seem like the Russian was sitting in his garden with him. Well, maybe not, but it kept him from feeling lonely at the very least.

The day was mild when Yao grabbed his tin watering can, stepping out so he could tend to his garden. The air was filled with a sweet aroma; drifting from the numerous blossoms from around the area. But they would come later, as he always took care of the vegetables first. Then came his genocide of all of the unwanted weeds that had crept from the earth when he wasn't looking. After that came the small flowers. But he always saved Ivan for last. That way the other plants wouldn't have to wait while they had their daily chat. Or rather, Yao's monologue.

"Good afternoon." Yao greeted the blossom. As always, he was met with nothing. No sound, no movement. But he smiled anyway; picking up his watering can and tipping the spout down so that he could pour the precious liquid into the earth where the sunflower's hungry roots were waiting for their meal. "I'm sure you're thirsty, but I have to save you for last so that we can talk for a few minutes." He said. He sat the tin can down once he had emptied it's contents onto the ground beneath. He used one of his hands to pet the flower's stalk. It was beautiful, like that of a normal flower, yet thick and strong.

"I can't wait for you to meet the other Ivan." He told the sunflower. "I hope he'll get here before autumn comes." He said. He didn't have the heart to tell his flower that his frenzied leap for the ball of fire in the sky was pointless. It would wither away before it could reach the thing that it desired most, dying away with it's siblings that had given up long before. But for now, it would try. And that was all that mattered, the fact that it was reaching for the sun's never ending light even after the others had quit. He looked up, grinning at the blossom. " But I enjoy the time I spend with you, Ivan."

"Da, I enjoy the time spent with you as well." Came a voice, laced with a russian accent. Yao's eyes widened. He blinked, his jaw hanging as he stared at the plant.

"Ivan, did you just say something?" He asked the sunflower. It was completely silent, and unmoving. He breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to go into the house and get a long drink of water himself, he thought. He was starting to hear things.

"I did. Is there a problem, Bolshevik?" Came the voice again. Yao whipped his head around, seeing none other than the human Ivan standing right next to his door. The asian's man turned bright red.

He had been talking to a flower.

A FLOWER.

Surely Ivan thought he had gone crazy.

He remained silent for a short moment, staring at Ivan with flushed cheeks. He was expecting Ivan to hold his sides and laugh at him until he couldn't breathe, but he kept smiling. But his grin turned into an expecting look.

"Come now Bolshevik, we haven't seen each other in six months now." He said. "Aren't you at least going to tell me hello?"

Yao practically leapt over to him, wrapping his arms around Ivan's wide torso. The other nation repeated the action, holding Yao in a tight embrace. "Ah, I've missed you my little Bolshevik. I have been so busy with the race to build up arms against Alfred." He said. He stroked Yao's hair with his wide palms, brushing out some of the dead leaves and other debris that had ended up in it.

"I know, and I understand." Yao told him. He turned to look back at his greenery. "I've found a few things to keep myself occupied while you weren't here." He said.

"You mean talking to your garden?" Ivan questioned, a teasing tone hidden within his voice. Yao shook his head back and forth. For a moment there, he thought that Ivan hadn't realized the fact that he'd been carrying on a conversation with a flower.

"Just the sunflower." He said. "I knew that you liked them, so I planted some to remind me of you. I planted many in that patch this last spring, but that one is the only that's made it past a foot tall." Yao explained to him.

"So you named it after me, did you?" Ivan questioned. Oh great, Yao thought. He knew about that too. He wondered just how long the Russian had been standing there before he had decided to speak up. He didn't comment on his question, deciding to change the subject instead.

"Why didn't you call me before you came?" He asked. "I'm covered in dirt and weeds. I wouldn't have gotten myself all filthy like this if I had known you would be coming." He informed him. He was littered with all sorts of bits and pieces of botanical life, as well as dirt and dead twigs. It was to be expected after crawling around in the garden for the past two hours.

"You know I never tell you when I'll be visiting Bolshevik." Ivan replied. "Besides, I had to sneak out before Natalia caught me." He said. Yao knew all too much of Ivan's younger sibling. She, nor anyone else for that matter, knew about Ivan and Yao's relationship together. And the two of them knew that all hell would break loose if she were to ever find out. It wasn't surprising that he could never visit the Asian nation with his psychopathic younger sister constantly at his heels.

Ivan pulled on his collar. "I could really use a shower myself. The hot weather is making me sweat." He said. Yao was about to tell him that if he took his thousand layers of thick winter clothing off, he might not be so hot. But he held his tongue.

"Go on and use mine if you want. You do remember where it is, right?" Yao asked him. Ivan shook his head in a no at the offer.

"Nyet. You are dirty too Bolshevik. It would be best if we showered off together, wouldn't it?" The Russian suggested. Yao flushed.

"What?" He questioned. "Ivan, I already told you. I'm not ready to have sex with you yet." Yao informed him. Ivan shook his head, taking the smaller nation's hand.

"There will be none of that until you are ready, my little Bolshevik." He assured, giving a tug in the direction of the door. Yao wasn't an idiot. He knew that if he followed Ivan into the shower, there would be more going on between than simply sharing the soap. But, he trusted his word that he wouldn't do anything that he wasn't ready for. He let out a long sigh.

"Fine, I'll do it." He said. Ivan grinned, practically slinging Yao over his shoulder. The chinese man flailed and shouted in protest all the way to the bathroom, his face as red as a tomato. The giant sat him down onto his feet gently, wasting no time in removing his several layers of clothing. Yao was anxious, and much slower in removing his own garments. By the time Ivan had strewn all six of his heavy coats about the floor, Yao had just finished unbuttoning his own top. Either Ivan was too excited, or Yao was too nervous. And judging by the way his fingers were shaking; the chinese man could tell it was the latter.

Yao turned to face away from the Russian, letting his shirt slide off of his shoulders as he heard the sound of the other's pants hitting the floor. He stripped himself of his own leggings; now completely bare. Yao felt a huge paw on his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Is there something wrong Bolshevik?" Ivan questioned. Yao shook his head back and forth, still not facing him. "Turn around then." The taller more or less commanded. Yao turned to face him. As if by some kind of odd human instinct, his eyes immediately flew to the area between his legs; and then right back up. He could tell Ivan had done the same, because he was still looking down when he felt Yao's eyes on him.

Oh dear lord, he was never going to be able to have sex with the Russian now. He wasn't sure what was living where his private parts should have been, but it resembled an anaconda. It made the Asian man feel awkward, because he was smaller than Ivan, and his own privates were proportionate to the rest of his tiny form. He looked up, and Ivan grabbed his chin with his fingers, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"You are so pretty Bolshevik. Don't be frightened." Ivan told him. He stepped over, turning the round dial that sent hot water flowing through the pipes and through the showerhead. He stepped underneath the warm fluid, his snowy white hair turning a blonde color as it was soaked through. He motioned for Yao to join him.

The Asian man stepped beneath the steady stream of water. His hair became heavy, and his muscles relaxed. The warmth calmed his nerves as it hit them. He could have purred like a kitten when Ivan kissed him then. He broke the connection, grabbing the bar of soap.

"Do you mind…?" He questioned. Yao quickly nodded, and Ivan set to work. His hands were wide; seeming to envelop his entire body in their touch in a single brush. His fingers would stop in sensitive areas, rubbing circles into the wet flesh. The most sensitive were the crook of his neck and the small of his back, each sensation making Yao shiver.

Yao was quickly becoming aroused, too nervous to look and see if Ivan was as well. He wrapped his arms around the larger man's wide torso, sighing with pleasure. He let his fingers wander, feeling Ivan stiffen against his side.

Ivan placed the bar of soap back in it's original spot. He kissed Yao on the nape of his neck; where his love bite had long ago shown purple. He knelt down in front of the smaller man, the sound of the water hitting the shower floor growing louder. He looked up at Yao, silently asking for his permission. Yao didn't hesitate for a moment, nodding his head up and down.

Ivan's tongue darted out from between his lips, licking Yao's cock from base to tip. The Asian shuddered, letting his eyes slip to a close. He groaned as Ivan took him into his mouth, engulfing the entirety of his length in wet heat. It was obvious that he was inexperienced with this, but the sheer size of his hot tongue sliding over his member made up for the lack of skill.

He reached down to pet Ivan's damp blonde hair, warm liquid continuing to pour down into it. His voice shifting from the occasional low groan to loud shouts of pleasure. Ivan's mouth bobbing up and down his member made a heat that made the water coming down on them seem cold as ice. He came with a shout, his essence being washed away into the drain as Ivan pulled away.

He took a short moment to catch his breath as Ivan stood back up. The Russian was still hard, so Yao decided that it would only be fair for him to return the pleasure he had received. He got down onto his knees, wrapping a hand around Ivan's length. He would have used his mouth, but it wouldn't have done much. He used the steaming water as a type of lubrication as he pumped his fingers up and down the throbbing shaft.

Ivan groaned as Yao steadily increased the amount of friction between his fingers and member. He tossed his head back, water dripping from his snow white lashes. He gasped as Yao took the very tip of his cock into his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive flesh. The Asian nation was much better at this than he had expected. He supposed he had a lot more time to learn. One part of his arousal was subject to the hot suction of Yao's mouth and tongue, the other his mystical fingers. It wasn't very long at all before he came, his heart thundering against the confines of his ribcage.

Yao straightened himself, reaching up to place a kiss on Ivan's lips. He stopped the stream of hot water, deciding that now would be a good time for them to dry off. He exited the shower, Ivan following suit. The taller grabbed a towel off of a wooden rack, wiping Yao's sopping wet hair. Yao went to pick up a piece of clothing so he could dress, but he was stopped by Ivan's voice.

"Wait Bolshevik. Let's dry off in your bedroom, and then get dressed." He suggested. Yao wasn't so sure that there would be anything of the sort, but he nodded anyway. His sex hormones were still going crazy, hazing his judgment just a little. He followed Ivan to the bedroom, unbothered by their nudity by this point. As soon as he shut the door behind them, Ivan lifted Yao up and sat him on his back onto the mattress.

He kissed the older nation, slipping his tongue through his lips. Yao let out a loud whine into the connection, his quickly reviving erection begging for touch. Ivan moved down to the crook of his neck, giving a possessive nip. He licked the tip of his collarbone, and Yao arched into the touch.

Ivan reached down, giving the base of his cock a tight squeeze. Yao gasped, feeling long fingers wrap around his shaft. They created a hot friction, one that made stars flash in front of Yao's eyes. He reached up, making the Russian groan as he dug his nails into the flesh of his back. Ivan moved his hand lower, rubbing the cleft between Yao's legs.

Ivan looked down at the smaller man, questioning if this was a step too far. Yao was silent, giving it a bit of thought. He decided that this was alright. It was still just 'messing around' and not actual sex. He lifted his head up to give Ivan a kiss, signaling that it was alright for him to keep going just a little bit farther. He was met with fingers at his lips. He took them into his mouth, sucking and licking at them until they had a decent amount of sticky saliva. Ivan removed his hand.

He brought his fingers down to the smaller man's entrance, circling around the opening with his index finger before slipping it in. Yao shifted a little. He was by no means virgin territory, but Ivan's fingers were very much different from his own; being longer and thicker. The Russian probed around inside of him for a moment, before adding a second digit.

Yao let out a sigh as Ivan moved his fingers within his body. He could feeling him pressing and rubbing the velvety walls, looking for a certain bundle of nerves that would set him off. Yao gave a sharp cry when he found it, hitting the bundle of nerves dead on. A bright white flashed in front of his eyes.

Ivan grinned, and thrust his fingers into the delicate spot with more force. The Chinese man moaned, his voice high. He wrapped his arms around the Russian's thick trunk, moaning and gasping with every twitch against his prostate. His spine was arched into a high curve, intensifying the level of pleasure.

Ivan gave him a look again, asking once more whether or not he could take this a step further. Yao sat and panted for a moment, taking it into serious consideration. His brain was clouded with lust, every fiber of his being screaming to let Ivan pound him into the mattress until it snapped. But another, tiny voice, was telling him to wait. It just wasn't time yet. He shook his head.

"N-not yet…" He muttered through ragged breath. Ivan responded with a sharp blow into his sweet spot. Yao tossed his head back, shouting as he came. He felt a small sense of loss as Ivan withdrew his hand from inside of his body. He moved one of his wide palms up to stroke himself, Yao just coming down from his orgasm. The Russian gave a sharp gasp, and he spent himself on Yao's belly.

His breath still erratic, Yao reached his arms out. He pulled Ivan down into a kiss, blindly reaching for a random piece of cloth. He wiped himself free of the white fluid that was spread about his skin, not really caring about what he had used. He tossed the random item away, being pulled in close by Ivan. Yao looked up at him with a frown.

"Ivan. It's only two o' clock in the afternoon, you know." He said. It was nowhere near time for sleep yet, and Yao wasn't one for unnecessary naps. "There's no way I'm sleeping." He stated.

Ivan grumbled, now exhausted. "It's not a nap Bolshevik. We're taking a siesta. You know, that thing that Italians always do in the afternoon." He said. Yao gave him a coy smile.

"That's at three o' clock Ivan."

"It's probably three in Italy right now."

"No, actually, it's somewhere around Noon."

"It's three o' clock somewhere. Go to sleep Bolshevik."

Yao smiled, knowing that Ivan had given his last bit of the argument. He surrendered, knowing that he had lost the battle. He decided a little nap couldn't be all that bad, and let his eyes slip to a close. There was nothing but he and Ivan, and they had all of the time in the world.

THERE IT IS PEOPLE. XD Sorry I'm always so late nowadays… I've had school. But, since I got switched out of a class I took and passed at another school and now have study hall for 90 minutes, I have plenty of time to write! Most of chapter ten is already in my notebook, all I need to do is type it out. Hopefully It'll be up within a week. XD Hopefully after chapter 11 I can get to some actual stuff, and stop with all the porn spam. But please keep reviewing you guys! That's what's made this into my longest and most popular fic so far! I love to hear from you guys, good English or bad XD Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

Yao sighed. He watched the orange and yellow and orange leaves, knocked to the ground by a gentle breeze that rolled through. The days were beginning to grow shorter; and the temperatures were quickly becoming colder. While the red mercury in his thermometer was dropping; the war between Ivan and Alfred was growing colder as well. So, while the cooling air usually meant more frequent visitation from his lover, now the Russian was too wrapped up in the icy feud.

He had harvested the contents of his garden, storing the great amount of excess he had away for the coming winter months. The first morning where a thin layer of frost covered the earth had come; and Yao had bid farewell to Ivan the sunflower. He had made sure to keep a pouch of his seeds for next season, where his children would bloom as bright and grow as tall as he had. He had given a brave reach for the son; giving up when all others had. But his petals fell; and he bent and drooped until he receded back into the earth.

So now, Yao was alone once again. Ivan's three day visit seemed eons away from him now; when in reality it had only been about a month. A few weeks was a short time for a nation, especially himself. But the time he spent without Ivan seemed to drag on for a boring eternity.

On the bright side of things, Ivan had gotten a telephone installed in his bedroom. The number was private, it's only use being calls to, as well as from, the Asian nation. They could speak to one another just about whenever they pleased now, but it still left a lonely sort of feeling in the pit of Yao's stomach. But, he was he was thankful he at least had Ivan's voice, though it was hundreds of miles away from him. Both of their long distance bills were outrageous; but well worth the expense.

Yao had become so desperate to see his lover, that one day he had decided to hop on the train and visit Ivan as a surprise. He went straight to his home; a smile on his face the whole way. Ivan was going to be happy to see him! Raivis was the one who answered the door; his fingers trembling from what Yao assumed was the harsh cold. Yao asked if Ivan was home, and had been met with a simple' No sir. He's out.'. Apparently Ivan had left on an emergency visit to the capital; and hadn't had time to alert Yao of his trip.

The Asian was then forced to spend the night at an inn in the neighboring city, the last train having been the one he'd come on. He made a mental note that Ivan wasn't home as often as he was, because his boss liked to keep the Russian filled in on things. Yao was consulted infrequently; which irritated him to no end. There was a time where he had sat alongside the emperor himself; eating and travelling with him, even allowed into his and his wife's bed on occasion. Now? He was treated like some secretary.

He returned home with a heavy heart. He was left to loneliness and boredom. Some joy came to him however, in the form of the best phone call of his long life.

The evening was a cool one, and he sat at the table with no company but himself. The sun was just starting to set; preparing to retire for the evening. Ivan had the tendency to give him a call later at night if he had the time; so Yao didn't expect for his telephone to ring for a few more hours, at the very least. So for the moment, he was going to have to keep himself occupied.

Yao had never really realized how boring his life was. Long ago, he had war and struggles for power to worry about. And then he had all of his little siblings to raise and care for; shaping them into powerful nations like himself. But Japan had turned against him; leaving him alone. Now, the only person he had was Ivan. And the Russian was pulled into the responsibility of carrying the weight of war on his broad shoulders. Now he was alone, more than ever, with nothing but his meaningless paperwork.

He was putting his dishes away when he heard the phone ring from inside of his sitting room. His ears pricked up, and he thought for a moment that the familiar noise had just been his imagination. After a few seconds of silence, he heard the noise again. Yao put his things down and went to answer, assuming that it was another work related call. They were probably just planning to fill him in on something small before they closed up for the night.

"Hello, This is China." He said, his tone formal. He felt a little bit of surprise when he heard a familiar voice come from the other side of the line.

"Privyet, Bolshevik. It's Ivan!" He heard the Russian say. Ivan seemed to be excited about something, judging from the tone of his voice. Yao cocked one of his eyebrows.

"You're early today Ivan. Is something going on?" Yao questioned him.

"That's exactly why I called you so early, Bolshevik." Ivan informed him. "I've got this big house, all to myself today. I would have come to you for the evening, but sadly I have an important conference in Moscow tomorrow, and there's no way I could make it there from your home in such a short amount of time." He explained .

"That's alright, I understand. I do you miss you though, so much…" Yao sighed. He heard a small laugh from the other side.

"Ah, but I'm there with you right now; aren't I Bolshevik?" Ivan asked him, his tone coy. Yao jumped, immediately looking all around the room. There was no sign of life, save for a moth that flew around his lamp. There was no way that Ivan could be there. Yao only had one phone, and the nearest booth was in the next town.

"Ivan, what are you talking about? I thought that you were home alone right now." Yao said in confusion.

"Just play along with me now Bolshevik." Ivan told him. "I think that you are going to find this very enjoyable." He said. "Now, just close your eyes my Bolshevik.."

Yao shifted, and did as he was told. He let his eyes close; enveloping his world in darkness. He pulled up a chair; sitting down next to the telephone so the cord would reach far enough for him to be comfortable.

"I'm right there with you, Bolshevik. I'm straddling you where you sit; pinning you there where you're helpless. You can feel my breath on your neck, right?" Ivan asked him. His voice had an erotic sort of undertone to it; filled with lust. Yao concentrated for a moment, playing out the scene that Ivan had described inside of his brain.

"… Yeah, I can feel it." Yao said. This was getting a little strange, but he liked it.

"Great. You barely have any time to think when I'm biting at your soft neck, tearing off that clothing of yours as fast as my fingers will let me." Ivan said. Yao did the same to himself; pinching at the nape of his neck to replicate the feeling of being bitten. He disposed of the clothing on his torso ; tossing it away. "I'm kissing and sucking at you everywhere now, lapping at every spot that I know will make you shiver." Ivan purred.

Yao tried to replicate every word in real life. He lubricated his fingers with his own saliva; and tried to imagine that it was Ivan's tongue. He sighed in pleasure. This was so strange, he thought. It was like they were having sex through the telephone. Ivan was in reality a thousand miles away from him now, but with this device he with him; leaving pink marks all over his flesh. It was a unique and amazing experience, one of the more original ideas from the Russian.

"Good, Bolshevik. You're getting hard by now, aren't you? Now I'm grabbing you right through those tight, pesky pants of yours." Ivan growled sensually. Yao responded by cupping himself hard; gasping as he rubbed the fabric along his stiffened cock. Arching his back, he waited for more of Ivan's voice; his touch.

"Would you like for me to touch you more Bolshevik?" Ivan asked him. "I want you to beg for it." He commanded. Yao could tell that the Russian was growing hot on the other end, his breath picking up to the point where it was coming in soft pants through the receiver. The Asian man let out a moan.

"Touch me more Ivan, please…!" He groaned. The strain his erection was causing on his pants was beginning to grow very uncomfortable.

"Good, good. Now I'm practically ripping those pants of yours off of you; because I know that you're ready for me." Ivan growled. Yao proceeded to throw his trousers as far away from himself as he possibly could. He gave a shout, and gripped himself hard. He stroked his cock roughly; like he imagined Ivan would at that moment. He heard the soft shuffling of clothing from the other side.

"Ah, now mine are off too… I'm so hard Bolshevik, I want you to touch me. " Ivan commanded him. Yao had to think for a moment, not quite sure how to replicate the feeling of having Ivan beneath his fingers. He formed his fingers into a circle; and simply made the motions in the air.

"Mnyah… That feels wonderful Bolshevik. Your fingers are simply amazing." Ivan moaned. Yao liked the thought of him on the other end of the line right now; his red face tossed back as he stroked himself. The other nation's breath was growing more labored now; a sign that he was enjoying this as thoroughly as Yao himself. "Are you ready for me to put it inside of you?" Ivan questioned him.

Yao was silent for a long moment, thinking the question over. He heard Ivan laugh at him. "Don't put so much thought into this Bolshevik. This is nothing but a fantasy; and whatever you say now is going to affect real life, I assure you." The Russian informed him. It didn't take but a half of a second before Yao made up his mind.

"I want you inside of me Ivan, right now." He commanded. He licked his fingers, having a lack of something else to substitute the feeling of Ivan's cock. He heard a loud groan from the other side; and he immediately pressed three of his fingers past his entrance.

"Ah… You're so tight!" Ivan sighed. "I'm sorry my little Bolshevik, for entering you dry. But you're fine, am I right?" Yao made a little hissing noise, of what would have been pain.

"Y-yeah, it hurts… But I'm alright." He said through ragged breath. "Now move…!" He commanded him. After hearing a loud moan from the Russian's end of the line, Yao began to slowly pump his fingers in and out, keeping a steady rhythm. He increased the volume of his voice, hoping to intensify Ivan's experience.

"Bolshevik, I'm ah… I'm going to go faster now." The Russian told him. Yao gave an incoherent noise of approval. He heard another shifting noise, and suddenly the volume of Ivan's voice increased. Yao was hopelessly trying to replicate the feeling of Ivan pumping in and out of him with his hand. He angled his fingers, omitting a loud yelp when he hit his sweet spot.

"Ah, Ivan! Right there!" He gasped. Ivan returned the command with a loud noise of pleasure, 'complying'. Yao hit the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and he lost himself with one final shout of ecstasy. A similar sound come from the other side of the telephone line not a moment after, and Yao assumed that Ivan had come as well. The Asian nation sat back for am moment to catch his breath. As soon as he had enough control over his lungs, he spoke.

"You there Ivan?" He panted.

"Da, I'm still here Bolshevik." Ivan replied. His own breath sounded labored and ragged.

"Did… Did we really just have sex through a telephone?" The Chinese man asked him. He heard Ivan give an amused laugh from the other end.

"Yes, I believe we did." He replied. "I wish that I were there to see you now. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look after you've come?" Ivan said. He gave a soft sigh.

"I am so sorry Bolshevik, I'm afraid I have to go. I'm leaving for Moscow very early tomorrow morning, and I won't be able to make it through the meeting if I don't go bed now." The Russian explained. "I will come to see you as soon as I can, my little Bolshevik. I miss you very much."

"Miss you too Ivan. Goodbye." Yao said.

"Goobye Bolshevik." Yao heard a click, and Ivan hung up. The Chinese man felt a small sense of relief. Many of the feelings of loneliness and tension that he had been feeling before had eased themselves out of him now. The feeling of stressful weight dropped from his shoulders, and he was left with a soft smile on his lips.

Yao stood, stretching his arms out wide. A cold breeze rolled through the room, out of the sky that has turned black while Yao had been distracted. He shivered, and made quick work of redressing himself. He was fairly certain that it wasn't supposed to be so cold in the middle of September. He ignored his underwear, returning to the kitchen to finish his work.

He was in the middle of putting his washed and dried dishes back into their proper places when his eyes widened. An odd feeling hit him, encompassing every single nerve of his body; and every fiber of his being for no more than a second. He stumbled, his heart beating fast as he supported himself on the countertop. He straightened himself after a short moment. He was struck dumb, having no idea what had just happened to him.

He stood still for a few moments, waiting to see if the sensation would come again. Deciding that everything was back in order, he put the last of his cutlery back where it belonged. His head light and spinning, he immediately retired to the confines of his bedroom. He sat his head down onto his pillow, the relaxed feeling that Ivan's call had given him gone away. He struggled with sleep, tossing and turning for quite some time.

He finally got fed up with searching for slumber. He grumbled in frustration, and moved to the kitchen once again. He poured himself a tall glass of water, and took a deep gulp of the liquid. He rubbed his head, making a little noise of annoyance.

"What's wrong with me…?" He muttered. A few minutes later, he felt his eyelids begin to droop. He decided that now would be the best time for him to return to bed. As he lay down, he sighed. Perhaps Ivan could tell what was going on with him. Finally discovering sleep, he decided that he would call him in the morning.

Meanwhile, the length of a nation away; Ivan sat awake. He held a soft red cloth in his fingers, the size of the piece of material matching his mattress. He rubbed the crimson softness, smiling. "You look so pretty in red, my little Bolshevik…" He said. He pulled out a silver needle and a thread. "… You'll be wearing it all the time, soon."

…

The sun had only just begun to peek out from beyond the horizon when Yao awoke the following morning. He sat up. The pain of having to struggle with sleep again just didn't feel worth it right now, he thought to himself. He went straight to the bathroom so that he could relieve himself, and stepped out to move to the phone once he was finished. Dialing the number, he wondered what time it was in Ivan's home right now. The zones didn't vary that much, so Yao assumed that it wouldn't bee too late for him to give Ivan a quick call. The Russian hadn't mentioned when he would be leaving however, so Yao wasn't quite sure if he'd still be at home.

He waited for a long while, his hopes plummeting a little bit more each time he heard the phone ring. Ivan was probably half way to Moscow by now, he thought. His ears pricked up as he heard the phone being lifted off of the receiver on the other end. One of the other tenants of the home had probably grown tired of the ringing, he thought.

"Dobroye utro Bolshevik." He heard. It was definitely Ivan. "I was just coming back upstairs to find something for the trip over. I almost forgot!" He exclaimed.

"Oh… You were leaving? I can call once you've come back if you'd like." Yao offered.

"Nyet! Anything can wait for you Bolshevik." Ivan told him. Yao heard what sounded like a sheet being folded in the background, but decided not to question it.

"Well, I've been feeling very strange, ever since you called me last night Ivan… It's like, for a short moment, something inside of me changed. Like everything was preparing to shift." He explained. "It's been bothering me all night, and I was wondering if you have a similar feeling right now."

"No… I can't say I have." Ivan informed him. "If you think you are sick, you should go to a doctor." He said.

"Alright, if it gets worse I will." Yao promised him. "While you're on, when are you expecting to return?" He asked. He didn't want to call two days early and have to answer to Natalia. As far as she knew, this was a line directly to the phone of his boss. He had a feeling that hell may break loose if she answered t Yao's voice.

"I should be back in a week. Maybe eight or nine days, depending on if the weather is bad." Ivan told him. Yao let himself laugh a little at his statement.

"Is the weather ever any good in your home?" He asked in a joking manner. He heard Ivan give a sarcastic laugh.

"Ha ha Bolshevik. Very funny." He said. "Now, I had better go. I'll miss the train if I don't hurry now."

"Alright." Yao said. "I love you Ivan." He added.

"I love you too, my Bolshevik." Ivan told him. "I hope that you are feeling better again by the time I return. Goodbye."

"Bye Ivan." Yao told him. He heard a click signaling that Ivan had hung up. Now that they had spoken, he was feeling especially light headed. The Russian might be right, maybe he should see a doctor after all.

…

A few of the passengers stared at Ivan, each of them sending an odd look. They were all on board a locomotive heading directly to the Russian capital, no breaks or stops. The nation himself was riding first class of course; though the three ranks didn't vary much. Perhaps a bit more cushioning in the seats than second or third, but that was it. Yes; Ivan liked to keep things similar. He didn't want to be unfair to his people by putting the greater part of them at a disadvantage. Things were much easier when they were all equal.

Red, to him was a wonderful color that represented that equality. His little Chinese lover looked so good in it… He took a large fabric star from his pocket. He kissed the softness of it. A little splash of yellow was a nice compliment to the crimson. He grabbed his red cloth, and pulled out a needle. And so; he began to sow together the pieces of Wang Yao's future.

OMFG I'M SO SORRY YOU GUYS. I'M SO LATE. BUT…SCHOOL . AND ROLEPLAYING ;A; I hope you like it! Originally this was just going to be filler smut, but I added some plotty bits in there at the end XD The big one's coming up next! Think October 1st people~ And Ivan's gonna get lucky XD Any way, review please! I love you guys so much 3 3 3


	11. Chapter 11

Yao looked over at his telephone with an expression of worry. It had been ten days now since Ivan had left for Moscow; and the Chinese man hadn't heard a word from him. On his seventh day of absence, when Yao expected him to be back, he called on the Russian through their private line. To his surprise, it was Toris who answered the phone. The Lithuanian explained that he was to answer this phone whenever Ivan was absent. He bid Yao a good afternoon, and hung up on him.

Yao was persistent, and gave two more calls. One on the eighth day, and another on the ninth. Both times, the Lithuanian answered to him. The Asian asked if he had any idea when Ivan would be returning, but the other nation replied with 'No sir, I haven't heard from him.' Yao was a little surprised by his formal tone and speech with him. He sounded almost automated, Yao thought. It was very unlike him. He told the other man to have a good afternoon, sighing as he placed the phone back onto the receiver.

It would be nice, he thought, if one could simply carry a phone in their pocket. Or maybe a telegraph, so that two people could send worded messages to each other. You would be able to speak to anyone in the world at anytime, without any wires or plugs. Maybe that technology would be available someday. He had seen more amazing gadgets created.

For right now, he was wondering if now would be a good time to call again. Although, something in his mind told him that the Russian would have rang him already if he was home again. He decided to hold off on it for a little while longer, and try when it was dark. If his lover was home, the phone would ring while he was sleeping. Suddenly, he felt so pathetic. Sure, he loved the Russian… But he felt like he was being a pest.

Yao wasn't very sure how to behave in this situation. He had pursued very few serious relationships in his lifetime. Usually, he would find a man or woman who he fancied, and spend a night or two with them. He never loved them. They were humans, just a simple relief of tension. There had been one of them who he had truly loved however. A prince with fair skin and pretty eyes, an easy enough catch for him. Yao loved the boy form the very pit of his heart, and was devastated when the young human was taken from him. A neighboring nation had stolen him away, and killed him off with many others of his people.

He faintly wondered if Ivan would share a similar fate. If he would be like the boy who's name he couldn't even remember now… Just a member of a passionate affair before being taken away by the cold hands of war. But then he thought, his prince had been nothing but human. He would have only lasted a few years before Yao began to wander away from him. His face would have begun to sag; and his eyes would have lost their beautiful luster. He shrivel and die, while Yao remained as young and pretty as a water lily. Ivan was a nation. His lands were vast and his power was immense. He would also remain young, as perfect as he was the day he had first kissed the Asian nation.

But for now, Yao was more worried about that immortality than relieved by it. Ivan could have been trapped, he thought, in a locomotive stopped by a terrifying blizzard. He could desperately trying to claw his way through the snow covered doors, surrounding by the blue corpses of the humans who had long since frozen. Or perhaps he made it out, and had no way to navigate while the train tracks were blanketed in white snow. Not even he could tell which way to head for in the barren tundra. He would never die, but would go to a point of starvation for what could be weeks or months; until he found some form of civilization.

Of course, these were all just fantasies born from his worried and paranoid state of mind. On the positive end of the spectrum, Yao hoped that Ivan was sitting by a warm fire at an inn somewhere, just delayed by a snowstorm and unable to reach a telephone. But, these hopes were thin. He knew that no matter what however, Ivan would live.

He was getting all worked up for nothing, Yao thought. Ivan was right. The weather had just turned sour, and he was running a bit late. It was nothing more than that. Yao had paperwork that needed filled out anyway. That would keep his mind off of the Russian for an hour or so, depending on how detailed the various forms all were. With a sigh, he too to the desk in the room he'd set aside for work. Whatever happened to scribes, he thought. Their recordings were all the paperwork you needed back a few hundred years prior. Back then, a man was buried when he passed away. In the modern day; there was a mountain of paperwork stacked atop of their coffins. The world was growing complicated.

With a heavy mind, he picked up his pen. He dipped the tip in a vial of black ink, and began to read the various forms of importance that were lain out before him. He dated them, signing his name in the pitch black ink. Doing this kept his mind free from worry for no more than an hour. He stood from his desk abruptly, tossing his pen away. He couldn't take this anymore! Paperwork be damned, he thought. Ivan, his Ivan, could be frozen in the middle of the tundra right now! He was going straight to Russia to find him, wherever he was.

He quickly pulled on something warm, searching around for his wallet. His could exchange currency at a bank there, if he needed to. He quickly looked over everything. He made sure that all of his lamps were cool, and his fireplace was dark. He opened the door to leave, shouting. He felt his feet disconnect from the ground below, and a pair of arms wrapped around his body tight. Out of instinct, he blindly kicked and scratched at the other form. Memories of many previous abductions crept back into his mind, and fear took over.

"Hey, hey!" Came a voice. "What has gotten into you Bolshevik? Calm down!" Ivan blurted out as he felt Yao's feet connect with his thick clothing. Yao stopped, and looked up at the Russian's bewildered face. His cheeks flushed a dark crimson color, and he wrapped his arms around the Russian's neck in an embrace. Ivan smiled, kissing the smaller nation on the lips.

"I'm so sorry that I scared you Bolshevik." He apologized. "I was just about to come in when you opened the door. So, when I saw you, I thought I'd just scoop you right up!" The larger nation explained. Yao looked at him and sighed.

"It's alright Ivan, I forgive you." He said. "But you can't go around surprising me like that! I felt like I was being abducted by Mongols again." Yao admitted. He faintly noticed that Ivan was carrying him bridal-style as they stood in the cool air. The Russian laughed.

"I would like to take you away somewhere where we could hide Bolshevik. If I could, I would." He said, stepping inside. Yao noticed that he had a bag slung around his shoulder. Probably filled with items from his trip, he thought. Ivan closed the door, still carrying the smaller man in his arms. Yao frowned.

"Hey, put me down…!" He demanded. Ivan thought for a moment, and shook his head.

"Nyet, I don't think I will." He said. He laughed as Yao began to flail once more, trying to escape. He tightened his grasp on the struggling nation. He took the Chinese man to the nearest couch, and sat down. He kept the smaller man in his lap. "I haven't seen you in ages, Bolshevik; and now that I'm here you act like you don't want me to touch you!"

Yao sat his chin on the Russian's chest, looking at him. "I don't like being carried." He said simply. "It makes me feel… Well, it makes me feel small." He admitted. He felt Ivan's fingers wander up to the back of his neck, fiddling with his hair tie. This seemed to have become a habit with him, he thought as Ivan tossed the red band away.

"You hold a lot of beauty in your small size." Ivan told him. "I like it. Your tiny fingers and lips, and especially your cute little co-"

"Aiyah! Stop saying things like that!" Yao protested, his face as red as a beet. Flustered, he sat up on top of Ivan's stomach.

"Why not? Size doesn't matter to me Bolshevik." Ivan assured him. "I think it makes you better, even." He said. Yao gave him a soft punch in the chest, embarrassed. Ivan always found a way to make him blush, he thought.

"Ivan, I feel like some kind of red-faced virgin girl when you say things like that…! " Yao said. "Stop saying them, please. I'm not some kind of woman, you know. You know that better than anyone else!" He commanded.

The Russian smiled up at him. "I could never see you as a woman, my Bolshevik. I tell you about all the things that are nice about you, because I like to see your face turn all pink, like it is right now. Also, I love you. Complimenting you is my job, isn't it?" He said. Yao tried to hide his look of embarrassment, crouching down and setting his head in the crook of Ivan's shoulder.

"I love you too…" He muttered into his lover's scarf. He felt Ivan rub his back his wide hands, and he relaxed. "I'm glad you're here… I missed you." He admitted. Ivan grinned softly, petting his hair.

"I missed you as well Bolshevik. My responsibilities just keep getting in the way." He said. Suddenly, he curled his lips into a cat-like grin. Moving his hands downward, he gave the smaller nation's ass a squeeze. Yao gasped; his head shooting upward in surprise.

"Hey!" He snapped. Ivan laughed, and repeated the motion. Yao struggled a little, his face red as he tried to move away. Ivan's smile grew even bigger at his actions.

"I wonder… Are you ticklish anywhere?" The Russian questioned. Before Yao could react to his question, Ivan took his fingers and made wriggling motion all over the smaller nation's sides. The Asian nation burst out into laughter, trying desperately to get away. He cried out, gasping and shouting and begging for him to stop. But Ivan was persistent, and he couldn't help but laugh along with him. Suddenly, the smaller man lost his balance; and came tumbling down and off of the couch. He felt Ivan get down on top of him after he landed with a thud. Yao smiled at him with heavy breath.

Ivan dipped his head down, kissing him on the lips. Yao kissed back, snaking his arms around his lover's neck. Ivan broke the connection after a few moments, knowing Yao's air supply wouldn't last quite as long as his. He pet the Chinese man's black locks, the silky black tresses looking like a puddle of oil beneath Yao's head. Ivan smiled.

"I want you to become one with me Bolshevik." He stated. Yao felt himself tense a little. He knew full well of what Ivan was implying. He felt light-headed all of a sudden. Just like he had the other day after his shock. His heart was fluttering against his ribcage, the sound nothing compared to the snare drum that played in Ivan's body. He reached up, placing a tiny kiss on the Russian's lips.

"Yes… I will." He muttered, just loud enough for his lover to hear him. Ivan scooped him up off of the floor, carrying him again. He kissed him, poking his tongue through the older man's lips. Yao moaned as Ivan ravished his mouth, clinging to him tightly as he was sat down on top of his mattress. Breaking apart to collect oxygen, they tore at each other's clothes. It was like a race to see who could undress the other first.

In the end, both of them were left bare. Their clothes were strewn about everywhere, waiting to be retrieved later. Both were already aroused, which made Yao nervous. That anaconda-like thing dangling between Ivan's legs was going where the sun didn't shine.

Yao pointed to the drawer in his bedside table. "There's a bottle of oil in there." He told the Russian. "Use it, or you'll rip me right in half." Ivan nodded, opening the drawer and pulling out a glass container. He smiled when he saw that it was already half-way empty.

"You use this often, da?" He asked. Yao denied the accusation, but the Russian paid no mind. He sat the vial aside for later. He bit down on the sensitive flesh of Yao's neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to bring the smaller nation pleasure. The Chinese man moaned, a sound that Ivan enjoyed.

The Asian nation arched his back as Ivan moved his mouth down to his chest. He licked at the hardened pink nubs that lie there; swirling his wide tongue around them. Yao mewled at the feeling, and raised his hips upward. Ivan's mouth and hands seemed like they were able to engulf him entirely; reaching every last nerve on his small form. He gave a sharp cry as he felt Ivan wrap his fingers around his cock; massaging him. He wrapped himself around the Russian, moaning and gasping in response to every twitch of his lover's fingers. He whined when his fingers moved down to the cleft between his legs, rubbing at his entrance.

Ivan took the bottle of oil from earlier, pouring part of its contents onto his palm. He was sure to leave plenty for later however; knowing that Yao would be needing it. Kissing the Asian's cheek; he pressed his index finger past the tight ring of his entrance. Yao gave a soft sigh as he felt himself be penetrated. He tensed for a second as he felt a second digit. But he soon relaxed, and let out a long, shaky moan. The Russian made scissoring motions within him; stretching his muscles and spreading them apart. Pulling him down by his hair; he kissed the Russian deeply. However, he felt a sense of loss as Ivan took his hand away.

Breaking the kiss; Ivan once again took the bottle of oil. Yao gulped, nervous as he slicked his cock with the cold substance. Ivan replaced the cap; and sat the clear vial aside. He looked at Yao as he positioned himself between his legs.

"Are you sure that you're ready?" He asked, rubbing the inside of Yao's thigh. He hesitated for a few seconds; but then Yao nodded his head yes.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He told him. "Just be gentle…!"

Ivan kissed his forehead. "Of course. I promise that I will never hurt you, my little Bolshevik." He assured him. Wasting no more time, he gently pressed the tip past a tight ring of muscle. Yao cringed, gritting his teeth. He buried his nails into Ivan's back, his fingers trembling at the tip. He hissed in pain when Ivan had completely sheathed himself. Ivan held back a loud groan; giving Yao a sympathetic look.

"Does it hurt?" He questioned. Yao gave a strangled gasp, nodding his head up and down.

"Yes it hurts!" He snapped at him. He shook for a few seconds; his muscles burning as they were stretched out as wide as it seemed they could go. After a moment; the pain eased itself a little. "B-but don't stop…! I don't want you to stop." He said. Ivan complied, and let him adjust. After a few moments however, he couldn't help but let out a long moan.

"Ah…. Bolshevik, you're so tight. Can I move?" He practically begged. "I swear I won't hurt you." He promised. Yao nodded in approval. Groaning, Ivan pulled back; and Yao shuddered as he pressed back into him. His erection twitched as Ivan moaned uncharacteristically loud. Yao simply groaned.

For a few moments, Ivan continued to make gentle movements in and out of Yao's body. For the first minute or so; Yao continued to claw into his shoulders. But as time passed; he lessened his grip. The pain was steadily ebbing away; making away for waves of pleasure to wash over him. His muscles stretched out to accommodate Ivan's length. He gave a soft moan, and Ivan took that as a sign to increase the pace of his thrusts just a little. Yao gave another noise of pleasure as the pain gave way to ecstasy.

Yao kept himself wrapped tight around Ivan's massive form; the volume of his voice quickly increasing. Now his lover was pulling in and out of him at a moderate pace, moving faster as Yao's voice became higher. The Russian had a difficulty controlling his own vocal chords. Yao was so small and tight. Now that he thought about it; the last time that either of them had had real sex was that august night years ago. Yao had grown tight inside; and Ivan's flesh had been sensitized.

Yao tossed his head back; practically screaming. The Russian slammed directly into his sweet spot, sending electrical jolts of ecstasy through Yao's body. "There, right there!" He gasped. Ivan complied; hitting the bundle of nerves once again. Yao cried out, his vision clouded by flashes of bright light. He opened his hands up, searching for something to yank. The first thing his fingers came upon was Ivan's hair. Giving a sharp tug, he yanked the Russian's head down until it hit his shoulder. His vision faded to white; and he came hard. He coated both of their abdomens in the hot fluid, struggling for air. He gasped; feeling Ivan's teeth on his neck. The Russian bit down hard, giving Yao payback for ripping a chunk of his hair right out of his skull. With a muffled shout, he came deep inside.

The two lie there in silence for a few moments, taking time to regain their breath. Pulling out of him, Ivan gave Yao a gentle kiss on the lips. The Asian groaned. "Ugh… Ivan, did you come inside?" He asked in a soft voice. His head was spinning. He gasped suddenly, as the feeling from ten days prior came back to him. But this time it did more than just linger for a fraction of a second. It stayed; encompassing his body, his soul, everything that was Wang Yao. His eyes widened; and he felt a sudden sense of panic beneath it.

"Ivan… Ivan, something's wrong…!" He barely made out. He felt as if his being was being molded, like warm clay. The Russian turned him on his side and held him to his chest.

"Shush now, my Bolshevik." He said. He pet Yao's shaking form, comforting him.

"What's wrong with me?" The smaller nation muttered. Ivan kissed him once again. He knew full well that Yao was terrified, and he had been as well in this situation.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Bolshevik." He assured his lover. "Now, go to sleep." He instructed. Yao looked up at him with scared eyes, and before he could even open his mouth to speak, everything turned black.

…

The morning after, it took Yao a long time to wake up. After he regained his consciousness; he sat there for a long while. He tried to piece together the memories of the previous night. He opened his eyes, lying beneath his sheets for a few moments before sitting up. He looked down at himself. He felt like he was a new person, an entirely different being than he had been the day before. He looked the same, and sounded the same as well. What was so different then? What was making him feel like this…? He looked around, searching for Ivan. He was opposite from the other side of the bed.

"Ivan…?" He called out. He would have simply stood and looked for him; but he didn't trust his legs to stand right now. The other nation popped into the room after a moment; a wide grin on his lips.

"You're awake!" He exclaimed. "I got up and changed your calendar to October for you. Also, I've got a surprise waiting outside." He said. Yao grumbled, his head giving a spin.

"Wait… Ivan, what happened last night?" He asked. Ivan gave him no reply, but instead walked over and kissed him.

"You and I became one, my little Bolshevik." He said. Yao sensed depth within Ivan's words. "Now, come with me. I want you to see what I made for you!"

Yao nodded. He stumbled a couple of times; his balance a little off as he managed to throw on a loose pair of pants. He followed Ivan outside, taking careful steps so that he wouldn't fall and hut himself. They stood in front of his door. Yao looked both ways. Everything looked exactly the same to him. He looked up at Ivan, one of his eyebrows cocked. "Ivan, I don't see anything." He informed him. Ivan pointed to the pole where Yao's flag normally waved. The Chinese man looked up, and he felt his jaw drop at the sight.

Instead of the normal fabric that billowed in the wind; there was a flag of bright crimson flowing in the morning breeze. It had replaced the one that normally signified himself and his people. In the top left corner there were six stars, he noticed. One of them was large; with five smaller ones forming a half-circle around it.

"You've got a new flag!" Ivan exclaimed. "It's what we were talking about at the meeting in Moscow. Of course, there's more than just this. As of today, you're government is communist. Like me." He explained. Yao blinked at him, speechless.

"I thought the red would suit you, Bolshevik. You look absolutely stunning in this color. Although, the decision was not entirely my own. Your boss is the one who decided to go through with it in the end. But I supported the idea… This way, you and I are one." Ivan told him.

"You're the one who made me like this…?" Yao asked. Ivan nodded.

"Nyet, only partially. You're not angry, are you?" Ivan asked the smaller nation. Normally, Yao thought, he would have been furious. He would have protested and argued that he changed him back, that he didn't want to change. But now that the transformation within him had taken place, he had been altered. He was still Wang Yao; but _China _had changed. This in turn made him different, if only tweaking his mind and soul a little bit. The Asian leaned against his lover, lacing together their fingers with one hand.

"You're right… It is a very beautiful color. I never noticed that, until today." He muttered. Ivan smiled.

"Yes, the most amazing." He said; kissing the other nation on the lips. "As of today, you and I are one Bolshevik." He said. Yao embraced him.

"I love you Ivan…" He muttered into the fabric of the Russian's coat. Ivan pet Yao's spine, still bare.

"I love you too, my Bolshevik." He told Yao. He took his lover's hand into his own once more; lacing them together into a tight knot of fingers. He listened to the sound of the crimson cloth billowing above them, kissing his lover deeply. In this moment, they were one. Besides Wang Yao and Ivan Braginski, nothing else existed. They could never break, never part, because now… They were one.

Ivan smiled.

Sorry for the lateness again! ;A; I have 2 more chapters written for you guys, it's just… THEY TAKE SO LONG TO TYPE XD And I have skewl to worry about. But please, your reviews encourage me to put the RP on hold for a little bit and type! Also, Just gonna say now. I do NOT support communism, in any shape or form, and I certainly do not hate America. But, this is the view point from which the story is being written. The views of the characters in the story do not reflect my own. I try to base everything off of historical events. Also, in doing this, Time skips will become a bit frequent in future chapters. I'll be skipping around for a while, with random important moments of our boys' relationship until the 70's. ;) America's gonna become a main player here in four or five chapters people. After that, I'll start really going off of the MAD itself. I even have sequel ideas! But, until then, read, review, share, and enjoy! (Also, how many of you guys would like a facebook page for the fic? I could post updates and the story status there. And maybe little pieces and ideas so I know you guys like them before I post here.)


	12. Chapter 12

Three years had passed since then. It had taken a few, shaky weeks to start off; but eventually Yao became accustomed to the new government that had been born within him. During this span of time, he often found it hard to keep his balance. He could walk or stand for extended periods of time before he would begin to wobble. He also experienced bouts of light-headedness, and sometimes nausea. But he eventually found himself returning to his normal state of being; and he went on to get a start with his new government.

Now of course, this brought on new stresses and responsibilities. It seemed as if all of the books were being thrown out or rewritten. He found himself busied with all of the new changes that had been made. And as if matters weren't bad enough, his brothers broke out in war. They had turned their childhood quarrels into something greater. Yao's nation dabbled with the fight, but he didn't bother with it personally. He wasn't going to grab his brothers by the scruff of the neck and toss them into time out like he had a thousand years ago. He had more important matters to deal with; such as his relationship with Ivan.

Through the years Ivan had picked up a nasty habit that drove his boss up the wall. Every time the nation would return to Russia, he would hop on the next train to China. There was no by-pass, no stopping at home to check in with the others of his household. Of course, for a time, nobody could figure out where he was going. Yao's lover didn't seem it, but he was crafty. Covering his tracks was a simple task. He disappeared to spend a few leisurely days with Yao; and took the returning train back to his homeland.

After a little more than a year of this behavior, Ivan slipped. He forgot to dispose of one of his ticket stubs; and somebody found the evidence of his trip to Yao's home. The news eventually spread to the other nations, and rumors began to circulate. Most of them feared some kind of communist attack on the rest of the world. Yao and Ivan were at last forced to come out about their 'hidden' relationship. It was embarrassing on both ends, but it was better than having to deal with someone's military staring you in your face. The matter was cleared, and the other nations went about their business. Alfred, however, always sent them evil looks.

At the same time; this alerted Ivan's boss to his location. At one point, he sent men to Yao's doorstep trying to find his Russian lover.

Wang Yao was madder than a hornet.

He through an absolute hissy fit, not unlike that of a frustrated mother. He threatened to ring their necks, or to pull them six miles by the lobes of their ears, if they didn't leave him alone. The mussed up, half-naked nation brought down the wrath of his tongue lashing; however ridiculous he may have looked. He told them no man would be taken out of his country, Russian or not, unless they wanted serious military action taken against them.

Of course; this only dettered them from going directly to Yao's home. Again and again, they tried to catch Ivan on his way there. There was simply too much work, they said, for the nation to be goofing off with his lover. Ivan, enjoying the game he played; slipped like sand through their fingers. He always regaled Yao with tales of his exploits, making the older nation smile. On this particular day however, nobody came to stop him. And Ivan was not in any sort of joyful mood.

Yao had already heard the news when Ivan came to him. Stalin had been in poor health for some time; and he knew it was inevitable for his death to come. It was normal for Ivan to feel remorse; even though his boss was often a pest to him. He hated the closeness and restraint that his leader wanted with him, but Yao was certain that he was grieving.

As always, Ivan didn't knock. Yao's home was his home; the Asian nation had once told him. He found Yao waiting for him there. The smaller of the two nations stood. Ivan caught him in a tight, silent embrace; that Yao returned. The two of them stood there for a few moments, unmoving.

"Ivan… Are you alright?" Yao muttered, his voice soft. He looked up at the Russian. The taller man nodded, his face sullen.

"Da, da. I'm fine. There is no need for you to worry about me Bolshevik." He told Yao. "I wasn't as close to this one as I could have been. It wasn't… It wasn't like losing little Anastasia again." He informed him. Yao knew all too well of the grief Ivan had felt when the little girl had disappeared into the dark bowels of history. He too had lost many children of high stature. Ivan let out a long sigh. "I'm just feeling a little sad is all."

Yao stood on the tips of his toes, reaching up. He placed a soft kiss on his lover's lips. "I know Vanya, I know." He told him. The Russian's face grew to a deep shade of red. He looked away in a state of embarrassment.

"Bolshevik. What did I tell you about calling me that? You know how much I hate it!" He said. Yao made a pouting face.

"What? Why?" He questioned. "You're allowed to have a pet name for me, and yet I can't have one for you? I mean, every time we see one another it's 'Bolshevik this, Bolshevik that.'. I should be able to Vanya in the bedroom, at the very least." Ivan rolled his eyes at Yao's argument.

"You know, I'm letting you near big sister anymore. She's the one that is always calling me that. If you never would have been around her, you would have never known!" He told the smaller man. Yao laughed a little.

"You need me to be there to protect you from Natalia though!" He said in a protest. Ivan grinned at the comment. Yao returned the expression; and pointed at Ivan's lips. "See that? I knew that I could make you smile." He exclaimed. The Russian kept the grin.

"I suppose that you did make me smile." He said; ruffling Yao's ebony locks. "Actually, it's very hard to be sad at all when I'm around my little Bolshevik." He told Yao.

"That's great. If I'm going to make you happy though, you need to protect me from Alfred in return." Yao said. Ivan's expression went from one that was playful, to one of concern. He cocked his head to the side.

"Why would you need me to protect you from Alfred?" He questioned. Yao flinched a little inside. He probably never should have said anything about it. What had he been thinking? Well, he thought. It would be best if he spoke his true feelings. He and Ivan were lovers, and he wasn't about to start keeping his feelings hidden away from him.

"Ah… It's not much of anything really. He just worries me a little when I'm around him. Ever since I took up the red flag, he's seemed… Well, bitter towards me to say the least." Yao explained. "I often catch him sending me shifty looks, and he seems to bump into me on purpose sometimes. He seems a little hostile whenever he's near me." He said. Ivan's previous smile had transformed into a dark grimace. He held Yao tight, protectively even.

"That capitalist pig won't ever touch my Bolshevik. " He snarled, like a dog warning off an intruder. "And if he does… I'll beat him until he can't even feel anymore." The larger nation swore. His wrathful face suddenly softened. He poked Yao's cheek with a gloved finger. "Also, I don't need any protection from my little sister!"

"Ivan. You drug me in the hallway closet with you and locked her out!" Yao protested. "You and I were in there for three hours before I finally convinced you to let me out for the restroom." He told the taller nation in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"It wasn't that long, and you know it! It was only two and a half hours." The Russian retorted. "Besides, I swear I saw her hiding a knife behind her back again. She could have killed you!" He exclaimed. Yao shook his head and rolled his eyes at him.

"Sure, sure. Whatever it is that you want to believe Ivan." He said. "I think you should just bite the bullet and admit that you're my little damsel in distress!"

"Nyet, you're the only damsel here Bolshevik." Ivan fought back. "I mean look at you. You've got all of that pretty hair, those tiny little hands and fingers, and most of all, that pretty skin." He said. Yao gave an angry noise.

"I can't believe that you ever dare to compare me to some kind of girl!" Yao snapped at him. "I swear, I'm every bit as much of a man as you are Ivan."

"Is that right? Last time I checked, you were the one that always plays the girl. Or am I forgetting something important?" The Russian teased. Yao looked him in frustration.

"I see." The Asian said. "You think that I couldn't bend you over and take you if I wanted to?" He asked. Ivan nodded.

"Da. That's exactly what I'm saying." Ivan told him. "You're just too delicate to be the man!" In the back of his mind, Ivan noticed that Yao had made a little side step, turning his own body. His back was against the wooden work desk. He looked down; and caught a devilish glint in his lover's deep onyx irises.

Before he could think to defend himself, Yao outstretched his arms and sent Ivan flying onto the surface behind him. He gasped, and tried not to slam the back of his head into the hard wood. While he was still struggling to land and regain his standing position, Yao grabbed his legs and spread them wide open. He pushed in between them; so Ivan couldn't close them. In what had taken no longer than thirty seconds, Yao had Ivan pinned down.

Ivan's heart was thundering against the confines of his ribcage once he picked his mind up a little. His violet irises were wide, and his jaw was hanging open a little. Yao bent over, and smiled like the Cheshire cat himself.

"Don't think, even for a second, that I don't know how to use another man." The Asian nation purred. He dipped his head down; kissing his lover's cheek. He proceeded to pull it back up; releasing his hair from it's tight ponytail. Long black tresses fell over his shoulders, like flowing black ink. He placed both hands on Ivan's chest, rubbing the area a little. "Besides, your boss just passed away. You're grieving! Which means you should lie back, relax… And leave all of that hard work for me."

Ivan looked up, and briefly considered his situation. He was on his back, on a wooden desktop that jabbed him even through his thick winter clothing. A man had thrown him on said table, one not even half of his weight and size. Said man also had his whole body between Ivan's legs, pressing their hips into each other. That, and Yao was determined. Once he was determined; Wang Yao was damn near unstoppable. He nodded in agreement.

Yao smiled, and kissed the other man tenderly. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle." He said. Using delicate fingers, he began to strip Ivan, button by tedious button of his clothing. He tossed everything away, leaving it to lie wherever gravity decided to pull it. Finally his torso was bare! Yao ogled at Ivan's cream-colored flesh, and frowned. He placed both hands over his gut. "You've lost weight…" He said. Could it be that the death of his boss was putting that much strain on him?

"I've just been a little more active lately. Honestly, there is nothing that you should be worrying about Bolshevik." Ivan assured Yao. He didn't seem to be lying. Thinking about it, Ivan didn't seem much of the type to let stress get the better of him anyway. His stress concerning America might be what was placing pressure on him.

Trying to relax him, Yao kissed his lips. He moved to his neck, suckling at the flesh with lips that brimmed with experience. Ivan let out a groan, using one of his huge paws to pet the back of Yao's head. The older nation nipped at Ivan's collarbone, stopping for a second to move a stray strand of hair that had fallen down into his eyes. He moved back to the sensitive flesh, teasing the nerves with his teeth. Yao used both hands to rub Ivan's hips sensually, smirking as the Russian arched his back into a delicate curve.

However, Yao was unhappy with one thing. All he could coax out of Ivan's lungs were soft sighs of pleasure. By this point, Yao himself would have already been moaning at a high volume. He wanted to unlock his lover's voice, and revel in the sound of his thick accent screaming in ecstasy. He wanted that vocal gold in all of its shining glory.

He made quick work of unzipping Ivan's pants. He urged his cock until it popped out, already hard. Hot blood pumped through it, making it throb beneath Yao's light touch. He stroked the shaft, and caused a dull friction to form between the flesh of his palm and Ivan's manhood. He pulled another groan from Ivan's throat. Unsatisfied, Yao began to flick his wrist in a way that made shivers run down Ivan's spine. But even still, Yao gained nothing more than a sigh.

The Asian decided to change his course of action. His lover made a noise of disapproval as he felt Yao's touch leave his cock. Yao's special bottle of oil was in his bedroom, so he decided that saliva would be good enough for a lubricant. His small fingers penetrating Ivan's body wouldn't be much of an issue, as the muscle wouldn't have to spread far apart.

He licked the delicate digits, coating them in clear fluid. He smirked, spreading Ivan's legs apart. He brought his hand down, circling around Ivan's puckered entrance with his index finger. He pressed it through a tight ring of muscle. Tighter than he'd thought actually. But then, it had been several years since Ivan had taken from another man.

He felt around, rubbing Ivan's insides curiously. They were as soft as velvet, and hot as well. He couldn't wait to get inside of that delicious flesh. He added another finger, thrusting them in and out, as well as scissoring Ivan's muscles wide apart. He looked up to make sure his lover was feeling alright. He cocked his eyebrow mischeviously. He stopped with his other motions, and set about to rubbing Ivan's soft walls. He searched for his sweet spot, and reached up to kiss him.

He licked his lover's lips, keeping him from biting them. He poked through the barrier, gaining entrance into his lover's mouth. He savored the taste of his own tongue and saliva. Before he could manage to bite hips lip again, Yao found Ivan's prostate. The Russian immediately broke the kiss. He tossed his head back onto the hard wood, hitting his head with a loud thunk. He cried out both in pleasure and from the sudden pain of hitting himself. Yao felt victorious.

Ivan's breath was heavy, and his eyes opened up wide. He gave a sort of confused look, peering up at Yao. The Asian hit that special spot again. Ivan jumped. "What's wrong Ivan? Has it been awhile since you've been touched right here?" He teased, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. Ivan cried out again, unable to find an answer through the waves of pleasure that Yao's fingers created. The older nation gave him a coy look.

"You've never been the woman before, have you?" He questioned, giving his prostate a little flick. Ivan groaned, but laughed a little.

"I thought that would be obvious, my little Bolshevik. I'm not so pretty and girlish as you are you know. No man could ever make a woman out of me." He said through ragged breath. Yao growled, and rammed his hips into Ivan's; practically making him fly off of the desk. Before Ivan could recompose himself, Yao rubbed rough circles into his prostate. He cried out loudly, arching his back.

"Yebat!" He yowled. Yao wasn't quite sure what that meant in his lover's native tongue, but it didn't sound nice.

"Oh, you sound awfully like a little virgin girl Ivan! And guess who's making you cry out like this? Me. Another man." Yao gloated. He pulled his fingers out, kissing Ivan. His lover was glaring daggers at him, no doubt wishing death on him in his mind. He released his own cock, stroking it with his wet fingers.

Without any warning, he pushed in. Ivan gave a surprised little gasp. Yao wasn't a large man, but Ivan was a virgin in this respect. He had to allow time for his muscles to spread out and adjust to the sudden intrusion. The Russian moaned as his body made room for Yao's.

"Congratulations Ivan." Yao teased. "It seems I've made a woman out of you." He purred. Ivan growled, and pulled him down by his hair. He crashed their lips together into a tooth-cracking kiss, moaning into it as Yao began to pump in and out. Ivan's tongue rolled over his, and Yao rammed into his tight heat. He pulled his lover's legs over his shoulders, allowing him to move faster.

Ivan gave low moans and groans, gripping the desk's edges. Yao pushed him back into the desk over and over, and anything that had been sitting there previously had long since been knocked away. Yao tossed his head back and simply mewled, grabbing Ivan's thighs.

"Augh, harder!" Ivan demanded. Yao was all to happy to oblige. He had to hold Ivan in place as he pounded into him. Otherwise, he would be sent toppling off of the hard wood. Ivan cried out with every last thrust, and Yao took pleasure in the fact that he hadn't even brushed his prostate yet. He angled himself, unable to resist the temptation of seeing Ivan's face. Within a moment, he hit it head on. Ivan gave a strangled gasp, pulling his lover's hair. After one more thrust, he cried out in ecstasy; spilling hot come onto their stomachs. Yao followed suit, releasing his seed deep inside of Ivan's body.

Panting like an exhausted dog, he pulled out. Ivan propped himself up on his elbows, giving a look of disgust. Yao's essence was dripping out of him, droplets dotting the floor below. Yao let his legs down, and rubbed his cheek. "See? This is why I'm always telling you not to release inside of me. It feels awful, doesn't it?"

Ivan laughed at him. "Oh, that's why? I always thought that you were scared of getting pregnant!" He retorted. Yao's face turned red, and he gave the Russian's ear a sharp yank. Ivan yelped. "Ouch, Bolshevik! I'm only kidding!"

"Oh really? Because I'm not laughing." Yao told him, his face stern. "I hope you can't walk now." He said in a bitter tone.

"I know you won't be able to next time I get my hands on you."

"You asked for it! I wasn't the one screaming to go harder, harder!" Yao imitated his lover yelling for him. Ivan smiled.

"Can you blame me? I could hardly even feel anything!" He snapped back at him. Yao's face lit up.

"That's enough!" He barked. In an angry haze, he used both hands to flip the desk. Ivan gasped, and flailed; trying to catch himself before he was sent toppling to the floor. He was only able to grab Yao's arm in time, pulling his lover down with him. But were left in a heap on the floor; Yao lying atop of the Russian's trunk. He lifted himself onto his elbows and looked down at him.

"Are you ready to call a truce?" He asked. Ivan thought for a short moment, and nodded.

"Da, that sounds nice. A truce it is." He said. Yao smiled in relief. However, Ivan took him by surprise by picking him up and tossing him over his shoulders. "But I will be needing some reparations first, of course!" The Russian exclaimed. Yao shouted and flailed as he was carted off into his bedroom, trying to escape. He was laughing as well however, a happy feeling in his stomach. Everything seemed like it was supposed to be this way. Times were good, he thought.

…

Later, after Ivan's collection of reparations, the two nations lie in bed together. They were tangled in a mess of limbs, sheets, and flowing black hair. Ivan smiled and pulled his lover close to his chest, snuggling him affectionately. Yao laughed a little, kissing him. Ivan looked down at him.

"So… Tell me now Bolshevik. What exactly has America been doing that makes you feel uncomfortable." He said. Yao frowned. He knew that he should have never brought it up earlier.

"It isn't much of anything really. I shouldn't have even mentioned it to you." He said. "It's just, every time I see him, he stares at me in this weird kind of way. He sits there and watches me, almost like he's ready to eat me alive." He explained. Ivan scoffed.

"If I know him, than I'm sure he does want to eat you!" Ivan told him. "He hates me, and he's taking out those feelings onto you too, because you're so close to me."

"No, I don't think it's like that. I think he just hates communism altogether" Yao told him. "But then again, he could be jealous." He said suddenly. Ivan sent him a questioning stare.

"Jealous?" He asked. "What do you mean by jealous?"

"Well, think of it this way." Yao told him. "For the better part of my life, other nations have wanted me. I've been invaded, stolen, fought over, and everything else that you can imagine. Now, you have me Ivan. I'm fully willing to be here with you. I think that maybe, Alfred is jealous because you have me and he doesn't." He tried to explain to his lover.

Yao gasped as Ivan brought him into a tight embrace. "That won't happen. America can't touch you." He growled. "If that capitalist pig ever so much as lays a finger on you, tell me. I'll rip his fat throat out and feed it to the cat."

Yao laughed, gently taking Ivan's arm with his hand. "Calm down now Ivan. He never does anything more than send me an odd look or two. He's never confronted me about anything. " He told Ivan. The Russian kept his stern expression.

"Whatever you say Bolshevik. But, promise me this… If he ever does touch you, tell me. I'll do the closest thing I can to killing him." He threatened. Even he knew that a nation as vast and powerful as America couldn't be killed by physical means. At least, not very quickly. It would take years of torture to accomplish that. But maiming a nation? That was easy enough.

"I promise." Yao said. "But Ivan, I can take of myself. At least for the time being. " He assured the larger nation, kissing the bottom of his chin.

"He's bigger than you though Bolshevik." Ivan told him. "He's much stronger than you too." Yao shrugged at his remark.

"I will admit, no amount of border expansion could ever change my human size. But, I can make myself stronger. Twice as strong as America, if I put my mind to it."

Ivan laughed. "I suppose that there isn't anything stopping you then!" He said. "Once my little Bolshevik has his mind set on doing something, then there isn't anything that can stop him."

"Shi, that's right." Yao replied. "I can make myself as strong as an ox."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Bolshevik." Ivan interrupted him. Yao gave him a confused look.

"Why not? You made it sound like a good thing just a few seconds ago." He said. Ivan smiled at him warmly, stroking his waves of ebony hair.

"Nyet, I have nothing wrong with you making yourself stronger. I would love for you to do that. But, if you are an ox, it is likely that America will cook you and stick you between some bread!" The Russian joked. Yao smiled at his remark, and propped himself up onto his elbows.

"Alright, I need a shower. " He said. "Because SOMEBODY, came inside three times. Just to make me mad, too." He told Ivan sarcastically. The Russian grinned like a fox.

"I was just getting revenge for earlier! My head is still all sore and swollen, you know. My big sister is going to hate you forever when she finds out that you gave me this big knot on the back of my skull." He protested. Yao frowned.

"Ivan, you got revenge three times over!" He exclaimed. Ivan rolled his eyes and stood up. Yao sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. "Where are you going?" He asked. Ivan looked back.

"To the shower!" He retorted. "What do you think I got revenge on your for in the first place?" He asked, stepping out of the room. Yao smiled, and followed right behind.

Okay. I know. You all hate me for being so late. BUT, I'm trying as hard as I can to keep this story updated! I have two more chapters in the making. I think it will be easier totype once I get to some of the more thrilling stuff in future chapters. The next will be only a few years forward, and then one after to 1970 ;) I know the time skips are odd, but in nation-time, they're irrelevant. Twenty years to yao and Ivan isn't much! Please read and review! It keeps me going~


	13. Chapter 13

The room was dark. The air within the blackness was thick and heavy, weighed down by pain and dread. There wasn't even a sliver of light that could penetrate the darkness, and no noise that could pierce through the unbearable pressure. There was a quivering ball in the corner of the square confinement, the body of Wang Yao. His knees were tightly drawn up to touch his chest, and his head was between them. His entire form was shaking, from the tips of his hair to the ends of his toes. If he could have been seen in the black, he would have looked like a frightened child.

The nation felt as if he were going insane. He could feel death burning him through his empty belly, tearing through the rest of his being. The feeling of his people's corpses growing cold as they took their last breath, their lives stolen from them by the cruel hands of starvation. It didn't matter if he had enough to supply himself with food. He always felt hopeless and hungry.

He felt like such an utter fool for ever allowing this to happen to his people, the ones he loved dearly. When his boss had introduced the idea that had triggered this all, a five year plan similar to one that Ivan's late boss had employed, Yao had welcomed it with open arms. The way they had explained it to him, it had made sense. It seemed foolproof, like nothing could possibly go wrong. His people would band together to support and benefit the entirety of his nation. The poor would farm, enough to feed themselves and supply the legions of new workers. What had been made out to be a glorious utopia had morphed into a living hell for Yao.

Things had been fine for a short while. But even the harvests of the collective farmers turned out to be small, and supply ran out fast. It was impossible to count the number of people who were slowly been dragged to death by hunger, or how many had already lost the fight for their life. As a nation, he could feel the pains and will of his people. He was influenced by his nation, so much so that his humanity couldn't break through. In this weakened state, he was China; not Wang Yao. The human part of him had withdrawn.

He didn't blame Ivan for anything that had happened, not in the slightest. It wasn't his fault that Yao's government had changed, he had only supported the switch. Besides that, Yao's ruler was the one who had initiated the plan. In the end, Yao reflected the feeling of his people. He felt their agony, their suffering weighing down upon his shoulders like bars of lead.

In these dark days, he spent most of his time in his bedroom alone. If he wasn't sleeping, he was huddled up in the small corner. Light burned into his eyes, and warmth made him want to vomit. Too much movement would rip any strength from Yao's body, and pull all air from his lungs. Water made him feel bloated, and food seemed nonexistent in his body. The only light he clung to was the fact that he had been in worse situations than this before. But even then, it didn't do him much help.

Ivan was often found at his side in recent times. He forced Yao to do anything that brought pain on him, such as taking him into light and forcing him to bathe. The Russian assured him that it would be much better to his health than sitting in a dark corner for days on end. He tried and tried again to find a cure for Yao's nonstop trembling, but a faint tremor never ceased to crawl across of his lover's cool skin. He would hold Yao in his lap, caressing him and making whatever conversation they could manage.

Yao's lover wasn't with him at the present however. He was off discussing some his tensions with America, something that Yao hoped went well. As he grew ill, Ivan's bitter hatred for Alfred Jones grew stronger. He was supposed to be back today, but it was possible that the Russian may be forced to stay at an inn for the night if he couldn't catch the last train moving into Yao's homeland. Yao wanted his lover to just move in with him, and stop playing this game of hopping on and off trains constantly. There were plenty of others to watch his home in his absence. But, the Russian always refused his offers. Then, if they did live together; it would be stressful on both of them. Only if they became one nation would they be able to live together permanently. Even still, Ivan was the only thing that seemed to make Yao's agony worth living through.

His shivering had calmed itself for now. It was nothing more than a simple vibration through his flesh. He opened his eyes, having long since adjusted to the dark environment. This wasn't his normal room. He had moved his bedding into the one, for it lacked a source of external light. There was nothing but solid, inpenetrable wall surrounding him. The burning in his stomach had dulled, but it would return to full force if he moved too much.

He sat his face on his knees, and hummed a soft melody, trying to keep himself occupied. In his darkness, he often thought about all of his siblings. The times they shared as children, if they were faring well now… It kept him from getting bored. Doing much of anything was difficult when you were enclosed by darkness. He stretched his legs out, leaning against the wall. He let out a long sigh.

After that, he wasn't sure how long he sat; teetering on the edge of sleep and consciousness. Now, the two seemed to be one and the same. He became fully alert once he heard a dull thud. He smiled, and tried his best to stand. But his body lacked the energy, and he collapsed under his own weight. He ran his fingers in his hair, knowing full well of how horrible he looked right now.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew closer and closer to him, heavy boods thudding against the floor. Yao couldn't help but flinch as the door was opened wide, and light flooded into the room. It seemed to melt his flesh, as it might a vampire. He was blinded for a few seconds. Once he had reclaimed his vision, he looked up at Ivan. His lover was standing tall in the doorway, his eyes wide and his jaw handing slightly ajar. Yao grinned at him softly.

"I know… I look awful right now, don't I?" He muttered. His throat was dry and numb, being deprived of water since the previous morning. He tried once again to lift himself into an upright position, but halfway he lost his balance and fell back onto his rear. He sighed, and looked up at his lover. "I can't stand…" He croaked, raising his arms like a child reaching for it's mother. Ivan knelt down, scooping his brittle form into his arms. The older nation wrapped himself around his trunk; nuzzling his chest thankfully. He felt a burning wave of hunger lick the inside of his stomach.

"…I'm so sorry that you have to see me like this Ivan." He told the Russian in a small voice. Ivan shook his head, petting his tangled hair.

"Shush. None of this is any fault of yours Bolshevik. " He assured his lover. "You are only feeling the things that your people are feeling. It's happened to me as well, in the past. It's nothing that Wang Yao can control."

"I know that. You're definitely right… But I still supported the plan. Maybe if I had thought more on it and realized how terrible it would make things… If I had just said no… Maybe none of this would have happened to myself or my people." Yao said. As he spoke, Ivan carried to a place filled with light; and sat down. He kept Yao perched on his lap, head resting against his broad chest.

"I would have done the exact same thing!" Ivan protested. "Humans have found a strange way of making anything look good, so long as it is written down on a sheet of paper. Also, if I know anything at all about that boss of yours, I know that he wouldn't have listened to a word that you had to say."

Yao nodded. Boy, was that the truth he thought. Speaking of his leader, he was a bit concerned about things that he may do in the future. It seemed that he didn't take to kindly to the man that now ran Ivan's nation. If major disagreement arose between them, his and Ivan's relationship may be jeopardized.

Ivan frowned, and he looked at Yao's matted hair. He made a face at the smaller nation. "Bolshevik, tell me… How long now has it been since you bathed yourself?" He questioned. Yao thought on it for a moment.

"When was the last time I saw you?" He asked in returned. Ivan was not pleased with his lover's answer. He gave him a stern look, and continued to interrogate him.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Not that I can remember."

"What about water? Surely you've been drinking Bolshevik."

"I have, just a little."

"Bolshevik, have you even been out of that ROOM?"

"… Very rarely."

Ivan gave a long, frustrated sigh. He looked at Yao with the face of a very annoyed mother. "Bolshevik, please! You have to take care of yourself, especially in times like this." He told him, a scolding hiss in his voice. "I am always worrying about you these days, and I can't stay to mother you like this! You're four thousand years old, you should know better than to let yourself sit and rot in a dark hole!"

"I know Ivan, I know… Trust me, I can take care of myself and my body." Yao told him; his words coming out through cracks. " It's just… It hurts, so bad, to even stand up. Every part of me burns and aches; from my stomach to my heart. If I walk, my hunger burns me. Food or water never end the pain." He explained. "If I could stay on my feet long enough to shower, I would. If I could trust myself not to fall asleep and drown in the bath; then I would sit in there and try to relax every single day."

Ivan turned his head, kissing him. He licked his dry lips; hoping to add moisture to the red, dry flesh. "While I'm here, you won't have to worry. You'll be bathing with me, and if you fall asleep, I'll just pick you up and carry you out of the water." He told Yao. "Also, you _will_ eat and drink."

Yao sat his head on the giant's shoulder. "…Xie Xie Ivan…" He muttered.

"You're very welcome, my little Bolshevik." Ivan replied. Yao felt so light… He probably hadn't noticed himself, but he had lost serious weight. And he had been very thin to begin with. He was sure that beneath his lover's clothing, his bones shot out through his flesh like daggers; threatening to pierce through his skin. "Come on now… Let's get something for you to eat."

Yao groaned. He was starving, his body desperately begging for sustenance; but it was never satisfied. As long as there were a million men experiencing his pain, his belly would continue to thrash, growl, and burn. Hunger's claws were still sharp.

Ivan lifted Yao up, giggling at his childish protests. He carted him off into the kitchen; sitting him down in one of the chairs that surrounded a small wooden table. He peered about, looking for something that he could make a meal out of. Everything in this nation was in short supply, so there wasn't much. He did notice some fresh vegetables. Yao had been out, and at least planned on eating it seemed. There was a steamer as well he noticed. He wasn't sure how cook anything in that manner, but he was sure as hell going to give it a try. It was simpler than he expected. He sat it on Yao's stove, filled the base with water; and the top with greens. Once everything was secure; he sat across from Yao.

"So, what happened between you and America?" Yao asked suddenly. He hadn't even given the Russian a chance to speak before shooting the question at him.

"What do you mean? Politically or personally?" Ivan asked back.

"Personally."

"Oh. We didn't say very much to each other. I can't stand to be anywhere near him." Ivan told him. "I did, however, tell him to back off."

Yao cocked his head to the side. "Back off?" He questioned. "Did he get too close to you or something?" Ivan shook his head no.

"Not close to me, but to you Bolshevik." He said. "You've told me so many times about those dirty looks he sends you. I told him he doesn't even deserve to live on the same earth as you do, let alone look at you the way he does." He explained. Yao's eyes widened.

"Why would you do that?" Yao asked. "It's not like he ever actually confronted me! You shouldn't bring up my paranoia."

"But it isn't paranoia! I've seen it as well Bolshevik." Ivan retorted. "He stares at you like you're a piece of meat sometimes. He wants to eat you alive. I told him that I want him to stay far, far away from you. You're mine Bolshevik."

"I don't belong to anyone Ivan!" Yao snapped at him, his voice breaking. "Don't think that you own me just because I love you. Nobody will ever take me."

"You will be taken if he ever gets a hold of you Bolshevik!" Ivan barked. He stood, and turned. He set a plate; and slid it across the table. "Now, I want you to eat." He commanded. Yao frowned, and took an angry bite. Ivan also sat a glass of water before him. "I expect you to drink this, as well." He told him. "Your lips are cracked because you won't drink anything.

"No matter what you do, it isn't going to make a difference Ivan." Yao protested. He continued to eat, the hunger in his body raging bright as soon as the food hit his tongue. He tried to control the speed at which he ate, but his starving body told him to pile everything he could into his stomach as fast as he could. Ivan had nothing, his only purpose being to make sure that Yao ate. He nudged the water.

"Drink Bolshevik." He demanded. Yao reluctantly picked up the glass, taking only a sip. Ivan wasn't pleased. "Come on. Your body needs more than that." He informed him. Yao glared at the Russian, and then emptied half of the container.

He ate the rest of the meal in silence, Ivan watching him without a single peep. Until he finished his food however, when the younger nation made him finish the rest of the water. He finally drained the glass; but it left his stomach feeling heavy and waterlogged. Ivan took care of the dishes, placing them in the sink to be washed later on. He turned to Yao.

"Try to stand now." He said. Yao nodded. He supported himself on the chair, slowly but surely making it to his feet. He quivered like a newborn foal; trying to muster up some kind of hidden strength that would support his weight. Unfortunately, his will wouldn't help him. His legs gave out, and he was able to catch himself of the chair. Ivan quickly grabbed him before he fell entirely. Yao balled his fists into his lover's heavy clothing, depending on him for balance. His head did a spin, and he shuddered. Ivan kissed his forehead, his earlier foul mood destroyed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to do that." He apologized to Yao. "Let's get you in the bath where you can relax…" He said. Yao nodded, his fingers trembling. The Russian lifted his emaciated form, carrying him to the bath. He sat Yao on the bathtub's edge, allowing to sit as Ivan filled it with hot water. He stripped himself, and helped Yao pull his own clothing away. The cloth smelled strongly of sweat, easily caught by Ivan's large nose. He tossed them into a corner, vowing to not let Yao wear them again.

Once full, he sat down in the tub. He pulled Yao on top of him, allowing his lover to lie on his torso. "Thank you…" The Asian muttered. He sat his head on Ivan's chest, keeping it held above the water. He could hear the giant's heart thundering in his chest, a sound that soothed Yao in hard times. Never had he met a man whose heart beat so loudly and deeply as Ivan's did. The warm water made him feel even more relaxed, However, his tremor remained hidden in his fingertips.

Ivan grabbed the bar of soap, running up and down Yao's body. His stomach lurched every time he ran over his lover's bones. The worst was his ribs. It felt like he was rubbing a bar of soap against a bag of pig's flesh filled with smooth stones. Yao seemed to take comfort in it though. If Ivan had been pent up in a dark room without bathing for weeks, he would have been grateful to be washed as well. Once he was slick, Ivan began to rub circles into Yao's ass. The smaller nation moaned quietly, quickly growing stiff. His length was pressed against Ivan's belly, until the Russian sat him upright.

Yao kissed him, letting out a long, high pitched noise of pleasure. It had been quite awhile since he had touched himself, or since Ivan had touched him. He was sure that his lover didn't want the sexual activity to drain any more energy or weight from his body. Ivan massaged his cock, Yao's back arched in pleasure. He mewled, his shaft still beneath the hot water. It made him feel like Ivan was using his mouth and fingers at the same time. He bucked his hips, a vicious flame of hunger ripping through him. But now, the pleasure managed to wash over the pain.

Acid continued to melt him, beneath the ecstasy. It was the pain of his people. He was only there to reflect their hopeless, meaningless suffering. There wasn't a thing he could do to help… And he had even supported the very thing that brought them into this pitiful state. His nation was starved, and he felt like the blame rested on his shoulders.

He was interrupted from his thoughts. Ivan had both hands cupped around his cheeks. He had a sad look in his eyes, one that Yao recognized from when the Russian was a child. "Bolshevik… Why are you crying?" He asked. Yao blinked, feeling a tear fall out and onto Ivan's fingers. He hadn't even noticed until Ivan mentioned it. He leaned his head into his lover's palm.

"My people are suffering right now Ivan…" He said. More tears fell from his chocolate colored eyes, dropping into the hot bath water. "I can feel it, and it hurts. It hurts so bad…"

Ivan frowned, and kissed him tenderly. He moved one hand down to stroke him again. Yao cried out, his voiced swirled into a mixture of sorrow and pleasure. His head spun, tears rolling down from his eyes. The stimulation was proving to be too intense for his weakened body. A part of him considered telling Ivan to stop, but he knew that if he slipped across the edge and passed out, that he would be there to catch and hold him.

Moments later, he gave a shrill cry. He came, his seed bursting into a milky white cloud beneath the warm water. In the midst of his ecstasy, he shuddered; and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He collapsed onto Ivan's torso, drained by the stress of sex. The Russian was taken off guard, until he was able to figure out the cause of Yao's shut down. He hadn't been able to take such a large expenditure of energy. Ivan stroked his damp hair, pulling out some of the wicked tangles in the process. He was a total mess… Ivan knew how he felt. He had been in similar holes before, and it was enough to drive even a nation to the brink of insanity.

He kissed Yao's forehead, holding his unmoving form close to his own. He planned to stay here until his lover finally came to, or at most until the water grew cold. He sincerely hoped that the prior would come first. Although, Yao seemed content in his current state. His body was relaxed, and his breathing was soft. It looked like he had simply fallen asleep right where he was. Ivan was sure that regular sleep was hard to come by with hunger pains wracking your whole body, so this would hopefully give his lover a chance at getting rest. Judging by the deep purple circles under his eyes, Yao hadn't gotten any sleep in a long while.

"I love you, my little Bolshevik…" He muttered, his voice coming out in a small whisper. Just as he was about to get out and take him to bed, Yao's eyes twitched. He gave a small groan, and his eyes fluttered open. He lifted his head, giving Ivan a look of curiosity as his mind picked itself back up.

"You fainted." He told him. "Don't worry, it's only been a few minutes." Yao nodded. He felt totally exhausted. He closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Ivan's trunk as he pulled himself tight to the other man. Ivan smiled, pulling both of their bodies out. He pulled the plug, sending the murky water spiraling down the drain. He dried Yao off a little, as well as himself. Ivan took his lover to bed, certain that the Chinese man had no idea how late it was.

Yao opened his eyes when Ivan switched on the light to his new bedroom. It burnt his irises, the foul beams making him cringe. They were half-lidded as he was sat back on his messy mattress. Ivan lay down beside him, pulling his small form close to him in a protective embrace. Yao looked at him with a tired gaze.

"Ivan… Why do you insist on taking care of me like this? I've been through worse all on my own you know. You don't need to trouble yourself by taking care of me." He inquired. Ivan stroked his damp hair.

"Lovers are supposed to take care of each other, no matter what. Especially in times as bad as these. Isn't that right?" Ivan answered. Yao managed a smile.

"I wouldn't know. I've only ever had one true 'lover' before you." He replied. "That was with a human though, and it never lasted longer than a few months before he died. But you and I… We've been together for nearly a decade already."

"This is true. But then again, what's ten years in the life of a nation?" Ivan said. "It's more like a single month to us. To you, more like a day I'm sure."

"Ten years can change a nation for a lifetime Ivan." Yao told him. "You may understand that someday. Even a single month, day, or even a moment can change the fate of a nation like us." He said. He said in silence for a few moments afterwards, a sudden curiosity gripping him.

"Ivan, did you ever have another lover before me?" He asked the Russian. Ivan was quiet; thinking back on the subject.

"No. You're definitely the first." He said. Yao was taken slightly aback by his lover's reply. Ivan, quiet and mysterious as he was, seemed the type to have had many lovers and romantic affairs.

"What did you do about sex all of your life?" Yao questioned, attempting to delve further into the topic at hand. He knew very little about Ivan's past, or his home life. He never talked about his sisters, or the three other men that lived with him.

"It doesn't matter where you are, Bolshevik. But there is always a good whore standing on a street corner. The only matter of worry is the price." Ivan told him. "What about you? I would have thought that four thousand years would have produced more than just one person."

"I do the same thing. I tend to sample around, and find a few good ones that I go to regularly." Yao replied. "They tend to know how I like it better than a random person would. When they get old, or stop working, I find someone else to replace them. I've had many men and women have me in bed for years, and then come to me begging for the 'secret of youth'. If only they really knew who they were sleeping with!"

"Really? Before you, I don't think I ever slept with the same person twice." Ivan told Yao. "I wasn't exactly choosy. Sex was sex, and that was about it." He turned on his side, looking at Yao. "Tell me, do you like men better than women? I never slept with another man until a few decades ago."

"No. There's never been a time in my life where I preferred one or the other." Yao replied. "Women do tend to be more abundant than men in the 'working' class these days. But back around three thousand years ago, you could sleep with whoever you wanted, unless they already belonged to another person. Nobody cared about gender. The religions that have sprouted in the past twenty five hundred years are the ones holding people to the thought that two men laying with one another is forbidden." Yao said. Ivan laughed a little as his lover put down modern religion. Yao looked at him in question.

"Well, you seem to be feeling better." He said. "I haven't heard you give a lecture since you became ill." He told the other nation.

"I'm not any better, trust me. It doesn't hurt as bad when I'm lying down. But this light is definitely giving me a headache. Having you here makes me feel better too, you know." Yao said, wriggling against Ivan as he said the last part.

"You know that's because I force you to take care of yourself. You hurt more when I'm not here because you sit in the dark all day long. If you bathed and ate properly, you would feel better all the time." Ivan lectured.

"Whatever you say Ivan. You know you're turning into a big, Russian Mother hen right? I can see feathers on your neck." Yao joked.

"You better watch out Bolshevik. Otherwise I'll sit on you like an egg!" Ivan said. "I'll keep on being a 'mother hen' until you get better. I'll do anything to stop what's going on inside of you." He told Yao truthfully. The Asian grabbed his arm, earning a look of question.

"Then don't leave… Don't get up and go in the morning. Or the next morning, or the one after that. I want you to stay here with me Ivan." Yao pleaded. Ivan held his form tight.

"I will try Bolshevik… I will try." He said. Yao closed his eyes; his tremble still apparent. Ivan did the same for a while; waiting for sleep until he knew Yao was unconscious. He opened them a long while later, looking to see if his lover had fallen asleep yet. He was surprised to find his amber eyes wide open; staring at his chest.

"Why are you still awake?" He asked. "You need to rest, or you'll never heal."

Yao sighed. "My stomach burns. I can't sleep." He said.

"Close your eyes, and you'll find sleep." Ivan promised. "I'll leave if you don't." Yao looked at him, and smiled. He nuzzled his chest, feeling a sense of security. He finally was able to sleep peacefully; captured in warmth. Ivan knew he was gone now, into a deep slumber he needed. He pet his lovers hair, closing his own eyes. He muttered something so quiet, words he would never let his lover hear.

"I love you, Wang Yao."

Yay~ another chapter XD Thanks for reading guys! I look forward to more reviews! Also, here's some stuff about the next chapter. There's going to be a pretty big timeskip. I tried and tried to write something that involved the border conflict, but It wasn't working out. SOO, I skipped all the way to something involving a new character ;D A whole new plot will be starting, 'the beginning of the end' really. The border conflict is mentioned though. The biggest warning is" there will be RAPE in the next chapter guys. It will be written out, not mentioned. So be watching out for it, and don't leave any nasty reviews okay? It's going to be a major plot element. Yao's going to be very confused as to what to choose, his humanity or 'nationality' ;3 Thanks again!


	14. Chapter 14

AHAHA. I'M SURE YOU ALL THOUGHT I WOULD BE A MONTH LATE AGAIN. BUT. Guys. Warning for this chapter! As it said in the comments on the last one, this chapter will contain GRAPHIC RAPE. If this offends you in any way, please skip over it. I do not condone rape in any way, shape or form. It's only being used as an essential plot element of this story. None of the actions of the nations in this story reflect my own personal views. I do NOT hate America, as a nation; or as a hetalia character. Please enjoy this chapter ^.^

Yao gulped. He felt his stomach flip over nervously. Since that day, time had progressed to the year of 1970. Quite a while for a human being, but it was like a few months to a nation as old as Yao. However, Ivan had long since left his home. Things had flown off of the handle when their nations had started to bicker about their borders, to the point where there was even some military action.

He shuddered even thinking about it. For weeks on end he and his lover did nothing but fight. It was hard to control their actions, their nations setting them at each other's throats. They had nearly ripped ach other's limbs off, gouged one another's eyes out, and Yao had made the mistake of wearing his ponytail during one of the brawls. Needless to say, it ended up getting ripped out and subsequently flushed down the toilet. Of course, in an act of revenge Yao had poured hot wax onto Ivan's back and singed his eyebrows off with the candle.

But, at some point; one or the other realized their actions and called a truce. After millions of apologies, both would calm down and fall into bed together. Both knew full well that their human minds weren't triggering their tempers. They were simply too close to one another, is what they both realized one night. Ivan had left Yao lying on the floor, having snapped his arm right in two. That night, he packed up his things and returned to where he belonged amidst the ice. Yao forgave him, and healed well.

After that day they never had any more than a simple argument. Their relationship thrived, so long as they lived apart. But after the fighting between their countries came to a stop, Yao thought that it would be alright if Ivan came back to live in his home yet again. However, afraid that he would hurt Yao again; Ivan made sure to keep the distance between them open.

However, on this particular day, Ivan was the in back of Yao's mind. Another nation had his full attention. Alfred Jones, more formally known as America; was coming to his home with his president on business. He and his own Boss would be talking to Alfred and none other than Richard Nixon himself.

So, in an attempt to be hospitable towards his guests; Yao offered the pair of foreigners the night in his home. Nixon had declined, preferring instead a hotel where he could ensure security was heavily placed. Unfortunately for Yao, Alfred had jumped at the offer.

The Asian nation was very uneasy about allowing the other nation spend a night alone with him. The American gave him goose bumps, his eyes containing an inhuman blue ice. He remembered a time when they hadn't been like that, not at all. He had seemed like a sweet boy before the bad business with Ivan started. He seemed paranoid to say the least. Recently, his stares and glances had turned from bitter to predatory. He was like a lion stalking a young gazelle, and Yao feared the snap of powerful jaws.

Now, he and his leader were awaiting the arrival of their guests. He was a little anxious, Yao could tell. But he was certain that his nerves were strung higher than anyone else in the room, including the guardsmen placed about doors and walls. Yao felt like a rabbit, inviting a hungry fox into his den. Yao went to the door as they arrived, keeping his head held high in a formal pose.

He greeted both of the foreigners into his home with open arms. He kept a distance from the nation, but he was welcoming to the other American. Yao's boss awaited them in the sitting room, where they all ultimately gathered. A few other foreigners had tagged along, all dressed in deep black. They dispersed themselves out evenly, standing like statues. Their eyes were concealed by dark, black sunglasses. Just looking at them sent shivers down Yao's spine.

The four of them spent several hours in that sitting room, discussing various issues. The main one being that America wanted to open up relations with China. Of course, this meant that the nations would have open relations; not necessarily the two that personified those nations. The exact same had been true after the creation of Yao and Ivan's alliance. Ivan had the human desire to be around him, and that humanity is what drove their emotions for each other. Even if their nations fought, their emotions could make it through with enough sheer will power.

At least… That was what Yao hoped. He didn't want his feelings to be based off of national alliance. But if that was true, than they wouldn't have stayed together through the border issues, would they? But then again, their nations hadn't broken their alliance. The thought nestled itself on his shoulders for the rest of the session. He paid little attention, simply nodding when addressed, and giving simple answers when asked upon. Before he knew it, he was shaking numerous pairs of hands; and bidding farewell to the American men, as well as his own. The way it looked, the nations were going to have open relations with one another.

As the door closed in front of him, Yao felt like the rope of a noose was prickling at the back of his neck. He was alone with the man who had been staring him down for years. No neighbors. No nearby source of people. He and Alfred were purely alone. The two remained entranced in an awkward silence for the first few minutes.

"So uh… Yao. You gonna show me where I should sleep or something?" The blonde asked. Yao snapped out of his silence and nodded.

"Shi, shi. Whatever you'd like." Yao replied, sensing an oncoming case of the jitters. God damnit, he thought. He was Wang Yao! Not just Wang Yao, but China! He had been a powerful, coveted nation for his whole life! There was no way that he was going to let simple paranoia take over him like this. Alfred was going to spend the night, and then go home. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

He continued to mentally encourage himself, even though his fingers trembled. He showed his guest into the guest room, giving him some privacy as he settled his things for the night. Yao walked back into the sitting room, wondering if he should Ivan a quick call. Ivan's brain had nearly exploded when Yao told him that Alfred would be alone with him for a full ten hours, maybe more. And now, if Yao knew him, had barricaded himself in his room and was sitting by the phone as he chewed through his nails, waiting for the damn thing to ring.

Okay.

Maybe not.

But Yao would feel great if he was.

Well, at the very least, he knew his lover was worried. He knew how powerful Alfred was, and didn't want to see Yao get hurt, touched, or even looked upon by that 'Cow-fucking capitalist pig' as Ivan had called him during the conversation. Yao was glad for his concern, but he was four thousand years old, and perfectly capable of defending himself.

He decided against the call. He didn't want Alfred's voice to come up in the background and stress Ivan even more. He was sure if he heard one syllable, that he would jump through the phone and kill the American on the spot. He was still very, very sore about the whole 'race to the Moon' business.

In the meantime, Yao set about finding something that the American could occupy himself with for two or three hours, or until he went to bed. Unfortunately, that task was easier said than done. He couldn't ask for help with paperwork, and his books were all in Chinese; as was the radio. He sighed as he realized that the only company he'd enjoyed over the past thirty years was Ivan's, save for the rare appearance of one of his siblings. Whenever they came, it was easy to stay occupied. But Yao wasn't planning on sitting down and having a long conversation with Alfred, so he was going to have to find something else.

Wait a moment, he thought. He spied the television set, it's channel dials covered in dust as a result of disuse. Americans loved television! It was in Chinese, but as long as it was moving on a little screen, Yao didn't think Alfred would care.

"So, what're we doing?" Alfred asked, materializing out of thin air. Yao was taken a back, and swallowed a yelp. He turned around, looking at the man that stood in the doorway to the sitting room. He had changed into lighter attire, and removed his glasses. It was standard American dress, a baggy white t-shirt and some faded blue jeans that barely clung to his hips. Yao felt silly in his formal clothing.

"I don't have much in the way of keeping guests busy really. I don't have others over often." He explained. It was a lie, he had one other person over all the time. But, by no means necessary did he want Ivan's name to enter the air tonight. "I do have the television set, but it's all in Chinese."

"Sure man, whatever. I know enough to get me through an hour of TV." Alfred said. He wasted no time in turning the set on, turning to whatever he first found as interesting. The he did an ungraceful flop; landing butt-first onto the couch. Something in Yao's mind told him that this was a routine. The Asian nation sat on the other side of the seat, trying to relax his nerves. Nothing's going to happen, he kept chanting in his brain. He was being completely ridiculous.

They sat together, the television piercing through the silence. The air seemed to press down on Yao's shoulders, making his relaxation efforts futile. Alfred looked over at him.

"So uh… Yao." He said. Yao turned his gaze from the television to look at him. "How are things going? You know, with Ivan and all that." He questioned. Yao was surprised. He never would thought that the delicate subject would be raised.

"It's going very well." He replied. He hoped that the skimpy bit of information would be enough to satiate Alfred's curiosity. Sadly, he had no such luck.

"Oh. Is he nice to you?" Alfred asked, delving further into the topic than Yao was comfortable with. He didn't protest, however.

"Of course. He's very kind to me. He's never hurt me, while his own mindset at least. Sometimes 'Russia's' temper will flare; and we'll get into an argument. I don't blame him for it though. It happens to all of us." He said. Things went quiet again.

"You know… I can tell what he sees in you Yao." Alfred muttered, breaking the silence. Yao looked in his eyes and felt an electric jolt flash across his skin. America's eyes were flashing, that predatory glare in his eyes coming out. Yao shifted a little farther away, trying not to show his state of alarm. Alfred crept closer to him.

"I mean, seriously... Just take a look at yourself." He said, poison dripping from his lips. "Tons of fertile land, healthy trade, so many people to put to work…" He trailed off. He licked his lips, and eyes Yao up and down. His blue irises glimmered in the dim light; freezing Yao to the spot. He returned them to Yao's eyes. "You're pretty fuckin' sexy too."

Yao scoffed. "Alfred! Don't say such things!" Yao barked at him, trying to keep a strong tone. He wasn't going to show any fear. He looked away for just a moment, and when he turned back; he was nose to nose with the blonde. Before he could even open his mouth to yell, his lips were captured in a tooth crushing kiss.

Yao immediately shot his arms out, trying to push him off. He bit his lip as hard as his jaw would let him, sinking deep into the flesh. He felt hot spurts of blood shoot out and in between his teeth as Alfred jerked his head away. Yao pushed with all of his strength, and sent the American flying to the ground.

"Get the hell out of my house!" Yao screamed at him, his eyes wide and blazing with fury. Adrenaline shot into his veins; and his heart picked up tempo. He pointed at the door. Yao wiped his bleeding lips, standing. He towered high above Yao's form, his blue eyes alive with hunger.

"I want you Yao…" He muttered, stepping even closer. Yao backpedaled a step, and he felt strong fingers trap his arms in a vice-grip. He had backed Yao into the wall, where he stood frozen in fright. " I don't want that commie bastard to have you. I'm the one that deserves everything you have, not hi-!" He was cut off. A sickening smack rang through the air.

Alfred brought his free hand to his cheek, gingerly touching the red flesh. The hand shaped mark felt like fire ripping across the side of his face. Yao's eyes burned even more fiercely.

"Listen, you fucker. Don't you ever come into my house and insult the man I love, Alfred Jones." He hissed. He gasped as he was lifted up and slammed back into the wall. His skull hit hard, rattling the contents. Alfred pinned him, his teeth bared.

"Don't you fucking talk to me like that you slant-eyed whore." He snarled. He was practically foaming at the mouth. Yao shouted, trying to kick, scratch and bite him. He gave Alfred a run for his money, sending him back onto the floor. He rolled over him, frantically scratching at his exposed eyes. The American pulled him down, grabbing one of his legs. He grabbed him by his hair, tossing him into another wall. He pinned him again, ripping away at his clothes. Yao screamed even louder, aware of his intentions.

He made even more of an effort to escape, but his energy was fading fast. "Let go of me you motherfucker!" Yao bellowed. Alfred brought his hand up, twisting one of Yao's nipples hard. The smaller nation yowled in pain.

"Aw, what's wrong?" Alfred taunted. "I thought you to be Ivan's private slut. What's wrong with getting your ass rammed by me, huh?" He questioned, twisting harder.

"I fucking HATE you!" Yao screamed. Alfred released the reddened nub, and ripped his pants away. Yao felt tears bubble up into his eyes. He was truly afraid of this man, and of all that he was going to do to him. He knew he was going to be raped again. His mind flashed to so many other instances of this sort, especially to the images of Mongolia holding his claws above his eyes, and then scratching down his body over, and over, and over.

He shook his head back and forth frantically, his pride crumbling. He was willing to beg in this situation. Fear caught him in it's cold fingers. "Stop it, stop it!" He cried. "Don't touch me aru!" He shrieked. He gasped at himself. _He had gotten rid of that!_ That goddamn nervous tick that he had managed to conquer crept up on him, now that he was in a state of absolute panic.

Nonetheless, his cry fell on deaf ears. Alfred didn't even notice the slip up. He let out a dark, malicious chuckle; unzipping his pants. His cock popped out, the shaft hard and throbbing. Yao hiccupped through his tears, closing his legs as tight as he could.

"Stop… Please stop it aru…!" Yao pleaded, feeling a sense of defeat. Alfred lifted him up, a wicked smile on his lips. Yao could feel insanity throbbing through him. He knew that the American would do anything, anything at all… _Just_ to get to Ivan.

Alfred parted Yao's legs with ease. The Asian nation knew how hopeless he was, pinned to the wall and begging to be released. He cried out as Alfred forced his way into him, completely dry. He didn't allow even a second for adjustment; immediately begging to slam mercilessly into Yao's body. He cackled, deafened by Yao's wild yowls and screams. He was slammed into the hard wall over and over, the sound of his body hitting it's surface repeatedly sounding like a drum. He shrieked like a dying animal. His body was being torn in half, he thought. There was blood coming from his insides as fast as water would flow from a fountain. Alfred's cock felt like claws, ripping and shredding until there was nothing left of Wang Yao's body.

Alfred was insulting him, Yao could tell. But he had deafened himself with his own yow ls. His eyes were wide open, and it didn't seem like he could ever close them again. Crimson liquid flowed out of Yao's anus and onto the floor, forming a puddle.

After what seemed like an eternity of searing pain and agony, the American finally finished. He came inside, dirtying Yao even further. He pulled out him, and dropped him to the floor. Yao fell with a sickening thud, into the pool of blood and semen. He felt Alfred's poisonous essence dripping out of him, turning the blood pink. Alfred tucked his cock back into his pants, zipping them. Yao shook, covering himself. He sniffled, tears falling like rain from his eyes.

"J-Just go away aru…" He muttered in a whisper. Alfred didn't look at him, nor did he speak. He turned away from the broken nation. He didn't bother with his things. He simply left. Walked out of the door like he would as if he were in his own home, and nothing had ever even happened.

Yao sat motionless, except for his trembling. He buried his face into his palms, letting out an ear-splitting sob. No other nation would have recognized him. The great Wang Yao, who never broke down, never lost his grace… Sitting in a pool of his own blood, beaten, torn, and raped. He was so humiliated. He didn't even have the strength to lift himself out of the foul-smelling puddle. He sat and continued to cry like a child, until his eyes stung. He mustered up the power to drag himself to the nearest seat, right next to the telephone. It had been so goddamned close… He could have called it, and been saved! But, there was no sense in 'what ifs'. All that was left to think about was 'What do I do now?'

He considered once more calling Ivan. But his voice couldn't hide his emotions right now. If he let a single 'aru' slip into a sentence, his lover would know that something was seriously wrong. He needed to calm himself first, and then seek his comfort.

He couldn't tell Ivan what had happened though. No matter what, he couldn't tell him. Alfred had done this to him just to get to Ivan. He wasn't going to allow the filthy American that pleasure. Ivan couldn't, wouldn't, find out. Ever. Besides, what would he even SAY to him? 'Hey Ivan. America just raped me aru. Yeah, it hurts really bad aru. Aw, I love you too Ivan, bye-bye aru!'

The first thing he needed to do was erase the immediate evidence. He was able to pick himself, supporting most of his weight on the wall. He gave a gurgling shout half way through, a wave of blood pouring out of him suddenly. He stood there motionless for a few moments, breathing hard.

He made it to the bath at last, after several minutes of pain. He sat on his knees, the most comfortable upright position he could manage. He ran the water in the bath only until it got hot, filling it about two inches. He grabbed a wash towel, and dipped it in the warm liquid. He gave himself a thorough cat-bath, making sure every bit of his body was clean. He left his backside alone, knowing that it would keep bleeding; and the more he tried to clean it, the worse off it would get. He tosses the cloth aside, to be burned later. Everything he came into contact with that night had to be destroyed. He would paint over the walls if he needed. The floors would be easy to clean, thankfully.

He lay down in his bed, successfully dragging himself there. He was able to calm down, and get clear thoughts into his mind. He decided that while Alfred's actions _had_ been to get to Ivan, they had been human. He would have been very friendly if they hadn't.

He felt so confused. The line between humanity and nationality was so thin, and he was teetering in the middle. He had a man who had raped him as a human, and another who may only have loved him as a nation. He just wanted the truth. He wanted to know who felt what, and why. What was he even? Did Wang Yao even exist anymore? Or was he simply China? Everything was spiraling out of control, into a dark, winding path of confusion.

His answers never came to him, as his mind shut down for sleep. He was left floating in uncertainty and blackness even in his dreams.

…

He woke the next morning, his backside throbbing. He gingerly lifted himself up out of bed. Luckily, he didn't open the wounds that had closed during his period of rest. He sighed. Any human would have suffered nightmares, if they slept at all that night. But Yao had been abused like this many times before, usually worse than this. Alfred had been quick and hasty. Others had preferred to draw it out for hours and hours, until Yao broke. But now, he was able to recover quickly. Though, he was uncertain of how he would feel about touch. The idea of being in Ivan's arms right now seemed heavenly. He would have to wait however, until his insides healed fully.

He decided to seek comfort in his voice at least. He spent a good thirty minutes speaking himself through a conversation, until he was certain that the 'arus' were out of his system. He took deep breaths, convincing himself that he could talk to Ivan without breaking down. He took the phone in his hands, standing. He didn't dare to sit. He didn't even want to think about how it was going to hurt when he had to use the restroom. It burned, and risked infection. He dialed Ivan's number finally. He gulped as the call tone buzzed in his ear over and over again.

"Hello?" Ivan's voice finally answered. An avalanche of stress came toppling off of Yao's shoulders. He wanted to melt when his lover's voice met his ear.

"Hello Ivan…" Yao said. His voice was a little quiet, but not so much that Ivan would notice. At least, he hoped he didn't notice.

"…Bolshevik? You sound different this morning. Is something the matter?" Ivan replied immediately. Yao winced. Damnit, he thought. It took a split second for him to come up with an excuse.

"I do? I just woke up. You know better than anyone else that I sound like a frog in the morning Ivan." He said. "And besides, I didn't sleep very well last night."

"I told you that it was a stupid idea to invite that pig over!" Ivan snapped. "He kept you from sleeping, didn't he? Psht, I bet he stood in your doorway and drooled over you for the whole night. He wanted to fry you and put you on a bun, the fatass." He hissed. Yao was with him on every word, now. God, how could he have been so stupid? Deep down, he had been terrified of America for years, and then invited him into his home? What had he been thinking?

"Yes, I know Ivan. I know." Yao sighed. "But I had to make my country look good, and be hospitable. I was China yesterday, and China doesn't have free will."

"Maybe not. But my Bolshevik is allowed to do whatever he wants, which includes keeping that awful man out of your house!" Yao sighed. He closed himself a little, a feeling of violation creeping up on him. He could still feel Alfred's disgusting essence lingering in him, along with his own blood. He hugged himself with one arm, his legs closed tight. He could only imagine what Ivan would do if he could see him now, still a scared and tainted mess.

"Yes, I know." Yao said. "I've got to go Ivan. I love you so much." He said, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he muttered the last sentence.

"I love you too, my little Bolshevik." Ivan told him. "And listen… If anything should ever happen to you because of America, tell me."

"Alright, I will. Bye."

"Bye."

Yao hung up the phone, and buried his face into his hands. He felt like he'd betrayed him! He'd been defiled and torn apart by another man… A man whose intentions were human. What were Ivan's? Yao questioned himself over and over, falling into a deep coma of thought. His brain walked the dark path he had followed here. He was at a fork in the road; and choosing which way to go would drive him to insanity.

Oh, the crappy ending. Sooo, how did you guys like it? I'm sorry for hurting poor Yao-Yao. *hides from Ivan* Lol, I think you guys are going to be awfully surprised with the next few chapters! Read and review, don't be afraid to tell me what you thought~ Also, just for the info, this is the fourth rape scene I've written :U


	15. Chapter 15

Okay guys, I know some of you didn't like the last chapter. But trust me, it gets better. In my opinion, Ivan and Alfred were both a little cuckoo during the cold war. they would do anything, absolutely ANYTHING, to get at each other. Even if poor Yao gets stuck in the middle. But, neither of them are bad at heart. not even Ivan. Also, real quick. I just got a new laptop, and the keys are a bit stiff. I'm sorry if some of the words are missing a letter or two. This will hopfully be better by the next time I post a new chapter.

Alfred: I'm a HERO, not a rapist DDDD*:

*Pets his head* Yes. Yes you are a hero. Just be wary Al. You're gonna get the tables turned on you soon ;3 The used will soon because the user.

Alfred: Wait, what-!

Kehehe.

It had been four weeks now since the incident. At long last Yao had healed to a point in which he was comfortable with Ivan seeing and touching him. His mind however, had remained stuck in a sorry state. He continued to wobble on the think walkway that separated the realms of nationality and humanity. The wall was tall, and it was so hard to tell what emotions lie at it's bottom.

He knew that Alfred had made a human decision. That he never doubt. None of the man's actions since that dark evening had eflected the actions of his nation. America was trying to be open and friendly, encouraging good bonds with China. However, very little had been seen or heard of Alfred Jones.

Where Ivan's true feeling lie was an entirely different story. Hell, Yao could ardly tell what he felt. The thoughts and questions haunted him day and night, swirling in a hurricane inside of his mind. This happened even though his and Ivan's relationship remained completely unchanged since the events of the month prior. His secret had remained safe from the Russian. Yao had gone undetected under th guise of having food poisoning. That kept any wandering fingers away from his nether regions for the time being.

He had been able to regain his sense of self-confidence after many long, hot nights all by himself. He felt like he had to drive poison out of his body. He had to be able to touch himself before anyone else could. By this time, he felt confident that he wouldn't freak out if Ivan decided he wanted to get intimate. Of course, these private etting sessions also played a large part in determining the stage of his healing progress.

Ivan was scheduled for a visit that day. As far as he knew, Yao's feigned illness has settled down to nothing but a stomach ache. He knew from experience that Ivan would take the oppurtunity to get him into bed, knowing that he was feeling better. He was drawn to Yao sometimes like a moth was drawn to flame. The Chinese was anxious however. He didn't know how his lover wold react to being pushed away if Yao suddenly got scared.

Making himself look like a total wreck was actually a rigrous process. If he was all dressed up in his normal clothing like usual, then Ivan wouldn't believe that he was sick. He knew from Yao' periods of sickness years before that if Yao felt badhe wore loose clothing. If he even clothed himself at all. He tossed on an overized shirt, and the baggiest, roomiest pair of pants he owned. Ivan could have fit into them if he tried. He skipped the underwear, adding to the sick and lazy appearance. He rapidly ran his hands back and forth in his hair, snding it into a terrible mess of knots and tangles as he tried to make it appear to have been neglected for days.

Once his disguise had been completed, he flopped down on the couch and proceeded to look miserable. Four thousand years of existence had shaped him into a perfect actor. Making himself appear ill was an easy part to play. He had almost nestled himself into sleep when he hearda far off click. He groaned loudly, putting a hand over his forehead dramatically. Ivan walked in, still covered in his thick winter clothing. He looked like a bea standing on it's hind legs with all of the fur he wore. Normally he left it at the door, but checking on Yao's condition had been his first objective. The clothes could wait for later. He practically scurried to Yao's side, kneeling down beside him. The Asian groaned.

"How are you feeling?" Ivan asked him in gentle tone. "You told me on the phone earlier that you just ha a little stomach ache... And yet, when I get here, you look like a monsoon hit you." He said. Yao turned his fce toards him, and reachd out a hand to lazily bat at one of his cheeks.

"It IS just a stomach ache." He told the man kneeling before him. "But you know that I hate to get dressed properly when I don't feel good. At least, I thought that you would have figured that out after all these years being with me. My outside reflects my inside, and that's the way I like it." He lied.

"I always think that you look beautiful." Ivan said. "Sometimes more than others. But, how you dress makes no difference to me. You're my Bolshevik inside." He went quiet for a moment after that. "Maybe I could try to kiss your stomach better?" he questioned.

Yao smiled. "I don't it will hurt anything if you try." He replied. He positioned himself in a way that would allow Ivan room to hover overtop of him. The Russian took the hint, and quickly hopped onto the couch. He dipped his head down, pressing his rose-colored lips to the flesh of Yao's navel. He kissed the spot, and then moved to connect his and Yao's mouths.

After a sort moment, the smaller nation broke the bond. "Thank you. That makes me feel so much better." He said.

"Oh really?" Ivan asked, curling his words into smile. "Tell me, how much better do you feel now Bolshevik?" He questioned in a teasing tone. He rocked his hips a little. Yao looked at him and gave a soft giggle.

"Yes, I feel good enough to have sex; if that's what you're getting at." He said. Ivan blinked, and straightened himself. He crossed his arms n a false pout. It was a habit he had picked up as a child, Yao remembered. Despite his well-built frame and huge stature, he couldn't help but find his lover cute in that position.

"You know Bolshevik. If I didn't know any better, I might think that you thought that I'm some kind of pervert." The Russian huffed. Yao grinned at his display.

"No, that's not quite it." He stated. "You seem to forget that I've known you since you were just a child Ivan. I can almost always tell what you want from me. Did I ever tell you that you never changed much from a child?"

"Nyet, I don't think you did." Ivan aid in a annoyed tone. "How is it that I've known you just as long, and yet you're still such a mystery Bolshevik?" He questioned. "But you're right. I've been frustrated without you. All of the added stress of knowing that you weren't feeling well madeit hard to get myself aroused alone."

"Alright Ivan, alright." Yao finally said. "I get your point. You can do what you want with me, but you have to be gentle. I don't want you shaking me up while my stomach is all upset. That will just make matters worse." Ivan gave a wide, triumphant grin. He lifted his hands, ready to unwrap him like a present. Yao's hand shot up, keeping the Russian's quick fngers awy from his clothing.

"Not right here either! I want you to take me inbed, not on the couch. It's not dignified."

"I didn't know any kind of sex was dignified."

"It's less dignified on a couch, alright Ivan?"

"Whatever you say Bolshevik. You know, you always get so bossy when you don't feel good. Just be quiet and let me take care of you!"

"If my health was left i your hands, I would have died a long time ago."

Ivan huffed, and lifted Yao into his arms. "But you know Bolshevik... I wold make love to you anywhere. Here, there, outside, inside, and if I could, I would lift you up and take you in front of the rest of our world!" He said.

"You'd have to drug me before you would be able to get me to do that. No, it's more likely that you would have to steal me from my grave and defile my body. Lovemaking is a strictly private affair." Yao informed his lover as he was placed on the mattress. "It should take place in a bed, or in the bath on special occasion."

"Maybe so." Ivan replied. He crept up Yao's body like a caterpillar, toweing overtop of his twig-like frame. "If it's what you want, I'll keepeverything in the bedroom from now on."

"Well, you don't have to keep _everything _in the bedroom." Yao told him. "In fact, that 'outide' idea that you mentioed doesn't sound so bad. Now that it's spring, being taken in the garden doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

"We could go there right now." Ivan suggested. Yao frowned and gave an adamant shake of his head.

"No, not today Vanya." He told him. "Now get to touching me, before I decide that I have to do everything by myself."

Ivan kissed him right away. He poked his tongue through Yao's lips, rubbing the underside of his tongue. Yao groaned into the connection; arousal beginning to flare up inside of him. Ivan's paws roamed over his form as he broke the kiss. He teased Yao's flesh as he disrobed him, making him arch his back and mewl.

The Asian reached up, scowling. Ivan had many layers of thick, heavy winter clothing that he had to peel off. He began tugging and pulling it off, until Ivan gave him a helping hand. After an unwrapping process that was drawn out longer than Yao would have liked, Ivan was bare. The Chinese licked his lips, and began to explore the vast white plains of Ivan's front with his fingers. Light, feathery touches made Ivan's eyelids lower; and his arousal rise.

Yao gave a sensual purr as Ivan lifted one of his legs; running his own fingers up and down the sensitive inside of his thigh. His touch breathed life into Yao's own erection; making him throb and twitch.

Ivan bent his spine, leaing down to kiss his lover. Yao felt like melting ice when their lips connected. A mountain fell from his worried mind. For so long he had been tense, wondering how he would react to Ivan's touch after what had happened to him. He didn't have a problem with the feeling. He felt his heart, his _human_ heart, swell with love and warmth. Ivan's touch healed the pain, washing it away with his touch.

Who even cared what America had done to him, he thought. Such occurances had happened to him many, many times before. He knew that they were going to happen again. As long as Yao remained a beautiful, rich, coveted nation; his human form would be defiled in the efforts to capture it. Yao was just a pawn in the game of chess between Alfred and Ivan.

"Are you alright?" Yao snapped out of his trance as Ivan spoke. His hand stopped stroking Yao's member, turning to look at him. Yao had been too lost in thought to even realize that he had being locomotive derailed; falling into the dark abyss that was Yao's mind.

"Don't worry Ivan, I'm fine." He said. "I'm just thinking about things."

"What kind of things?" Ivan questioned. Yao went to think of a quick excuse, but instead, his mind came up with a valid concern that he had yet to adress. He looked to the side, making himself appear vulnerable and innocent.

"It's just..." He muttered. "I've never heard you say my name before. Well, since we started our relationship at least. From the start, it's always been 'Bolshevik, Bolshevik, Bolshevik'. I have a real name you know. This time, I want you to call that name." He explained.

Ivan's eyes widened with surprise. He moved up, pressing his lips to his lover's once again. "I'm so sorry... I never knew that it bothered you so much that I call you that."

"Well it does." Yao informed him. "But you can change that, alright?"

"Of course." Ivan said with a smile. He resumed his stroking motions, making Yao arch his back and moan. The Russian's hands had mapped out his flesh, knowing exactly what made Yao's vision go white. Ivan milked his lover's cock, making him grasp the sheets until his knuckles turned the same white color as the cloth he held. He moaned; hot pools of pleasure collecting inside of him.

"Put it in!" Yao gasped through his strangled breath. He was clinging to the edge of ecstasy, desperately trying to keep from topplig over. A glossy bead of precum bubbled out of him; wipedaway by Ivan's thumb. He removed his hand, licking the white fluid fro his fingers. It was like a drop of bitter honey on his lips. Yao looked up at him, his breahing heavy and his face flushed to the color of a rose. "I want you inside Ivan..." He whispered.

Ivan nodded in agreement. His mind had already trained itself to be able to pull out the bottle of oil from Yao's drawer without even glancing at his hand. He flipped the cap ad poured it directly onto his swollen prick, spilling a few drops in the process. He flipped the cap and tossed the bottle away, now that it had been upgraded to a plastic container. He slicked it over himself in wo stroked, ready to push in. Yao's hand bolting up to his chest stopped him.

"Not so fast now!" The Asian barked. "I told you before, you have to be gentle."

Ivan nodded yes. He positioned himself, pressing in the head of his member. He followed through slowly until he was sheathed down to the hilt. How he was able to fit in Yao's body, so much smaller than his own, was a mystery in itself. But he managed it nonetheless; causing a moan to rise up from them in unison. Ivan gave a moment to allow Yao's muscles to accomadate him; and began moving. His thrusts were moderately paced, but without much force driven behind them.

The Chinese let out a long, erotic moan. His ears were alert, focused entirely on his lover's voice. He was craving the moment when his name would slip from his lips in that thick accent, one he had come to adore. He encouraged Ivan to go quicker, to bring him more pleasure. He was curled into a tight bow, moaning and mewling a sonata of ecstasy.

Ivan stopped for a split second to pull Yao in his lap, thruting his hips up and deep into his lover. He hit his sweet spot, causing pleasure to erupt inside of Yao. White stars began o flash behind his eyes a Ivan hit his prostate. The Russian dug his head into the crook of Yao's shoulder; pressing his lips to the Asian's ear. He was rapidly reaching the peak of his pleasure.

"Ah, hanh, China!" He shouted. "China! Augghhm, China!"

At that moment, both of them toppled into orgasm. Yao's vision turned white; and after e came down from his Nirvana, he felt his heart crack.

He'd called him China.

_China._

For Yao, that was the deciding factor in an argument he had been fighting with his own mind for far too long now. It was obvious to him how Ivan really felt about him. In his eyes, he was just a country. He loved China the nation, not the man known as Wang Yao. All this time, Yao had been following a love that didn't even exist.

That night, he slept with his back to Ivan for the first time.

...

Two days later, Yao lay in bed. He was curled up into a tight ball; wrapped around a large cushion. He had a photograph of himself and Ivan clutched between his fingers. It was wrinkled and tear-stained, and hardly even visible anymore. Yao loved the Russian man so much, more than he had ever loved anything in all of his existence. To find out that the Russian's love for him was false... Was a pain more intense than anything he'd ever felt. It was too much for his small body to bear. When his first lover had perished, the pain he had felt was nothing compare to the agony in his heart now.

That name rang through his mind. He heard Ivan's voice saying it, shouting into his ear, over and over. China. China. China. He hated that goddamned name.

Why had he ever been so foolish as to fall in love in the first place? With another nation no less! The relationship as even more pointless than it would have been if he had fallen for a human man. All he had ever gained from the farce was a broken heart.

He needed something real. Something that wasn't driven by a nation. It could have been love, it could have been hate, or friendship. All Wang Yao had was the unbearable need to be given real emotion.

At that moment, he knew the one man who could give it to him.

...

Alfred F. Jones sat at his desk. His chair was leaning back on two legs, the American's feet propped up onto his desk's hard wood. On his left lay a pile of half-finished paperwork, on his right a pile of comic books that stood a foot and a half in height. There were a little over a hundred volumes, each one containing a new tale of some hero. Whether it be Captain America, or the Iron Man, none of them could compare to the heroic figure that was captured in the book currently in Alfred's grasp.

Superman. The blonde couldn't think of any other hero that he could compare to more. Sure, he didn't have slicked back hair, rippling muscles, or a cape; but he sensed a similairty in their personalities. Alfred sometimes imagined himself being Superman, and Ivan Braginski as the infamous Lux Luthor. The battle between Democracy and Communism was one just as epic as the one fought between Superman and his nemesis.

The thought of Ivan made his mind drift off to the thought of Wang Yao. He shuddered as the memory of the man came to him. The sickening thd of his body as it hit the floor, shaking, scared; blood dripping from his tattered form. Alfred had done that. How could he ever consider himself to be like a superhero when he ha raped an innocent man?

He had already realized the errors of his ways. The moment he had stepped from Yao's door that night, he had wretched at the thought of what he had done. For a week, every time he looked at himself he vomited in disgust. All of that, he thought, just to get to Ivan. And it hadn't even worked! He should have known that a man as clever as Wang Yao would never let himself become a piece in a game of hatred. If he had, Ivan would have declared war in a heartbeat.

He hadn't been thinking straght that night. But he thought that he could hurt his greatest enemy was too strong. He didn't remember that Yao was old and wise, and culd never be used like that. On more than one occasion he had stood in front of his telephone, staring it down, wondering if he should call and apologize. But then Arthur's tales of the other nation's wrath rang in his mind. No man had ever made him feel the fear of death more than Yao.

He looked at the calling device at that moment. Why was he being such a pussy about it? He knew that admitting that you had done wrong took a serious pair of balls, and he was no girl. He wasn't going to let this tear him up. Not him, not the man who was comparable to Superman! He practically broke the phone as he punched the numbers in. He felt an indescribable wave of tension as the call tone sounded, once, twice, three times, four times... Over and over until he reached the answering machine tone. He pounded his finger into the number one, wishing to leave a message. He gulped as the tone sounded.

"Hey Yao. Don't turn the message off yet! It's Alfred." He said. " I know you don't want to hear me right now. I'm sure you hate me, and my guts." He siged. He ran a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking these past couple of weeks... I can't _stop _thinking about what I did to you buddy. I feel terrible.

Listen, all I really want to say is... I'm sorry Yao. I wasn't myself. I underestimated you, thinking that if I hurt you I could get to Ivan. Thinking back on it... You don't have anything to do with what's going on the two of us, and you're not dumb enough to let Ivan find out what happened between us. What I did to you was awful, and I understand if you don't forgive me man. I'm an asshole, I'll admit it. What I did was sick, cruel, and wrong. Call me back. I want to apolgize to YOU Yao. Not your answering machine."

He hung up the phone, and took a deep breath. "Well, fuck." He mutered. "That wasn't so bad. Even though it was just his answering machine..." He said to himself. Part of tha stress was relieved. He hoped that the Asian would return his call and talk to him. Maybe he should send him something nice as an apology? No, he thought. Then Yao might think he was sucking up too much.

For the next hour or so, he remained in his office. He did paperwork until his hand cramped, and then returned to his heroes. They were much more vital to his country than paperwork was. At least, to him they were. He read through a volume of Superman, Captain America, the Incredible Hulk, and a few others. He glanced at the phone once ever couple of minutes, hoping that it would ring. But the device remained silent. He had just called at a bad time, he convinced himself. Yao just hadn't woken up yet or something.

He put his book down and sighed. He needed to get out of the house. The blonde stepped out of his office. He went to his room and put on a shirt that looked half-way decent. He decided on the park. It was a nice spring day, and he was sure that the place would be bright with newborn plant life. He went to his door, grabbing the handle.

The noise of someone clearing their throat pierced the air. Alfred immediately withrew the pistol he carried in his pocket, while he was home. He pointed it at the face of...

"Holy shit..." He muttered. He stepped back into the door; the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Sitting on a setee a mere few feet from where he stood was Wang Yao. His amber irises were cold and sharp, freezing the warm spring air. How could he have gotten here so fast? No, it was impossible. He couldn't have gotten the message. He couldn't have traveled to America in three hours.

Yao stood, stepping towards the paralyzed American. Using his index finger, he pushed the gun down. "Seriously, you would point a gun at a guest?" The Asian questioned. Alfred gulped, and put the revolver down.

"Listen, Yao, I-!" Alfred tried to say. Yao pressed his finger to the American's lips. He ran it down his chin, his neck, stopping at the top of his stomach.

"Don't say anything." Yao told him, his voice coming out in a purr. His gaze was cat-like, piercing Alfred's own eyes. He had heard, long ago, that Yao had found the way to see into a man's soul. Whether that was true or not, he wasn't sure. But he believed it now. The Asian drew himself close; until their faces nearly met.

"I need you, Alfred." Yao cooed. The American gulped as his glasses were removed. His vision blurred a little.

"Need me?" He questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"Quiet with all the questions." Yao commanded. "I need you to feel something. Anything, as long as it's for me."

Alfred scowled at him. "I thought you had Ivan for that." He said. Yao grimaced; his eyes flashing.

"Ivan doesn't feel anything for me." He hissed. "China is the only thing he's ever seen. He doesn't know who Yao is, like you do." Alfred gave him a look of confusion. Yao smiled cheshirely, and cupped his face with delicate fingers. "I'm giving myself to you Alfred. I need you. You're the only one who can fill up this fucking hole in me."

Before the blonde could open his mouth, Yao had pressed their lips together. Alfred's eyes widened, and he tried to push him off. But Yao's fingers were everywhere. His tongue was working magic, and his touch sent him to places he'd never been before. He groaned, and pinned him to the floor. Yao smiled, knowing that this is what he needed. This lust, this feeling. He was Wang Yao. And only Alfred could see that.

They fell into a tangled ball of flesh; ecstasy-filled cries ringing through the warm spring air. Yao had gone insane. Crazy with doubt and uncertainty, and it had turned him into a monster. Alfred made him feel complete, even if his emotions weren't ones of love. They were enough. His and Alfred's cries echoed from the walls and ceilling, the day turning into one of bitter lust and pleasure.

Ivan had said once, that he and Yao were they only two. There was nothing besides them. The whole rest of the world had disappeared the moment they became one, and nothing else could ever tear them apart from each other.

On that day, there were three.

You see? Alfred isn't a total butt. He apologized! Yao doesn't know that of course, but he did. Yao is a little loopy now though. All he wants is love ;w; Also, thanks you guys for all the review and favorites on the last chapter! I'm sure you guys thought that I was turning this into a total rape!fic, but I'm not XD The plot thickens from here, as we draw closer and closer to december 1991. Where thins will go until that point, only I know ;3 Please read and review! I hope you guys like this chapter more than the last. My deepest apoloize for putting something so dark in here. *bows*


	16. Author's note

Hey guys. Sorry, not a new chapter. Don't think there will be any more. I've got a really bad bout of depression, and well... I've just lost my lust for this story. Also, I'm kinda getting into homestuck. I just wanted to be polite, and tell you all that this may be the end of this fic. :/ I mean, I may keep writing if enough of you want it, but I doubt too many of you actually read this fic. But thanks to everyone. Maybe I'll be able to pick it up again after a while... I'm so sorry.

Yao: But-! I STILL haven't patched things up!

Dratini: Sorry Yao-Yao. Looks like you may be stuck in this weird triangle forever.

Yao: TTATT I hate you.

-Dratini


	17. Chapter 16

GUESS WHO'S BACK? MUWHAHAAHA. Did you really think that I was that evil? I'm going to boldly go where no other author has gone before, and continue my fic AFTER hiatus! (Now if only the maker of hetaoni could do the same, lol!) Did you miss me? My depression has fizzled away over many long, painful weeks. I got so much support from friends, and even from people I haven't heard from in years. so, I've found a new spark for this fic, and I hope you people enjoy this chapter! I can't believe I'm already at sixteen! I couldn't have done it without you guys and all of your loyalty and patience. As a special, this part gives insight into a little piece of the pair's past together. Thanks :D

Time passed. The spring, brimming with fresh lust and passion heated up; caramelizing until it formed the long, sweet days of the summer. The heat drove Yao mad, and pushed him into drinking from his vial of poison, labelled with Alfred's name written in blood. He drank, and each drop that slithered down his throat tore away at his ability to ignore the reality of his situation. It was his sense of security, and every shiver America sent through him, every tremble of ecstasy sent it crumbling. Paranoia set in. Every time he left his home, he did more to ensure that nobody could catch him. He burned every plain and train ticket, tossed away every tape with a message from his secret. He had placed an absolute ban on any type of surprise visit from not just Ivan, but everyone. Even with all of his altered behaviors, Ivan never raised a question. He remained ever faithful; never once doubting Yao's loyalty to him, even when Yao's toxin had reduced him to no more than paper.

The elder nation, becoming more and more aware of what his actions were doing to him as warmth faded away from the world, had resisted his vile potion for weeks. Winter froze his passion, and reason was left alive. He knew he had to quit. An affair of this kind was only hurting him. It was hurting himself, it would hurt Ivan in the end, it would even bring pain to Alfred if it didn't come to an end as soon as possible.

Yao had to convince himself that he was only interested in a diplomatic relationship with Alfred, and he was getting too caught up in his confusion and doubts to realize his mistakes before it was far too late. Alfred had once made him feel completely relaxed and contented, but winter crept up on him; and frosty regret settled in his bones. He felt as if a poppy had snuck into his garden one morning and cuaght fire, driving him completely mad. Alfred had overwhelmed him, as had the opium flower at one time in his life. He couldn't let that addiction steal him again.

Presently he was huddled up on the couch, sitting with a blanket curled around him tightly. His toes stuck out from underneath the thick cloth, warmed by the fire. He stared into the bright flames, stuck in perpetual motion. He looked for some kind of answer to his problems, vut the only answer the fire gave was a loud pop from within a log. He sighed.

The sun had long since set, retreating early to escape the ice of winter. It was only nine o clock, but it felt like midnight. He was left drowning in his mind, awash with volumes of memories and information that could fill ten million libraries and still be full. He would curse himself for retreating to bed so early the next morning, but he couldn't stay awake any longer. He couldn't risk dwelling upon Alfred too long. It could easily bring temptation. He waited for the fire to die down first, before slipping into bed. It was growing weaker and weaker, and the softening flickers made Yao's eyes droop. It hypnotized him, tricking Yao into sleep.

He awoke later, confused. He was unaware that he had ever even fallen asleep; and had no judgement of how much time had passed. It was still dark, he noticed. However; the foreign object moving around in his hair was top priority at the moment. He drowsily lifted his hand up to investigate, and it met another. He jumped awake; his head whipping around to look at the intruder. He met a pair of violet irises, wide and startled. Yao relaxed, and an angry grumble bubbled out of his throat.

"Do you have to sneak up on me like that Ivan? You know it scares me! Hell, what time is it even... Twelve?" Yao shot out a multitude of questions at him as his mind picked itself up. His voice came out in the form of a dry croak. The Chinese saw Ivan smile in the dim light.

"It's three in the morning, actually. Dobroye utro!" He said chipperly, going so far as to wish Yao a good morning in his native tongue. The Asian grunted, unamused.

"Exactly. Why the hell are you here at this time? An old man like me needs his sleep you know! The last thing I need right now is for you to give me a heart attack in the middle of the night!" He hissed and spat like an angry cat.

"You're so cruel when you're woken in the morning, my little Bolshevik. Has anyone ever told you that?" Ivan said, returning his interrogation with even more questions. Yao's grumpy attitde grew exponentially at his remark.

"I'm perfectly fine with waking in the morning! This is the middle of the night, and I'm just trying to sleep after a long day! And now I have no hope of getting back to it, because of that damned petting stunt you pulled there." He snapped. "Why are you even here Ivan? I thought we agreed, no more surprises! I thought you were a man of your word." He swung his legs around so he sat upright; both feet on the floor. Ivan crossed his arms, faking a pout.

"I got here at a reasonable time, considering I got the last train. I was in the door at ten, and you were already out like a light. I walked in here to find you with your stomach hanging out of your shirt, snoring like some kind of bear! I went to bed for an hour, and when I came back to see if you had woken up yet; your face was covered in hair. I couldn't let it block your eyes from me, so I had to move it all back." The Russian explained. "Seeing your sleeping face is a treat that is too tempting for me to simply pass up, Bolshevik." He continued. Yao didn't fully believe his tale, but in his lover's defense... His stomach had been hanging out when he woke up.

"But all of that aside, I would have thought you to be expecting me, today of all other days! Don't you remember what it is?" Ivan asked him. Yao looked at him confusedly, trying hard to think of what it could be. Valentine's day? No, it wasn't that... Ivan's birthday had been a few weeks before. He searched his mind for an answer. The Russian waved his hand. "It's early, don't answer that." He said, worried that he would get another stab from Yao's sharp tongue.

The smaller of the two men felt his hand being taken, then. His sleep filled eyes saw light peeking out from around the corner, and tried to adjust. He was led into the source of the light; and forced to shut his eyes closed tight. In that moment his lover's hand left his own. He remained blind for no more than twenty seconds, and opened them to find a pallette of color placed an inch away from his face. His eyes widened in surprise, and he recognized the colors to be a bouquet of flowers. He raised an eyebrow, taking the delicately wrapped blossoms.

"...You traveled all the way from a different country, and woke me up at three in the morning to give me flowers?" He asked, his voice irritated and flat. He looked down at his gift. "It's the middle of winter anyway, where did you even get these? They look like like they were picked five minutes ago..." He said.

"You don't have to worry over where I got them, Bolshevik. What's important right now is not where I got them, but for what occasion!" Ivan told him, as Yao took a deep whiff of the bouquet; the warm scent reminded him of the spring , or the first day of june. He brought them away from his nose. He didn't want to be reminded of that maddening season.

Ivan drew closer to him, capturing Yao in an embrace. He let out a soft chuckle. "And here I thought that you may remember our anniversary, my Bolshevik." He said. Yao looked up at him.

"Well, I don't see why I should need to. I mean, this is the first time that you've ever seemed interested in it. It's just like any other day to me, really." He said. "Why do you want to celebrate all of a sudden?" Ivan's hands wandered up to the Asian's ponytail, which had been left tied before he'd fallen asleep.

"Well, you and I haven't seen much of each other this past year... I thought we could take today to spend with each other. All twenty four hours of it. And here you've wasted three of them sleeping! You had better stay up for the rest." Ivan explained.

Yao buried his nose in Ivan's chest, suddenly cracking a smile. He laughed into his lover's night shirt, suddenly slipping from his agitated mood. Ivan cocked his head to the side in question.

"This makes me remember you bringing me flowers as a child." He said. He recalled the memory. It was a warm day, and Ivan; hardly three and a half feet tall, stood on his toes. His left canine was missing, and his eyes shone brightly. He held up a widflower for Yao to take, his stubby arms reaching up only to Yao's chest. The elder took it, rubbing the child's hair. His little neighbor was certainly amusing, he remembered thinking that day.

Ivan scratched his cheek. "Ah, so you can remember all the way back then, can you?" He asked. "God, it's been so long since then... Can you think of how many years?"

Yao grinned like a cat. "What you should be asking is how that little boy ever grew from reaching up to give me something, to holding my whole body in one arm!" He told Ivan. The Russian returned his smile.

"Even a tiny seedling like me can grow into a tree that touches the stars, Bolshevik!" He said. Yao shook his head.

"Dear god, how can you still remember that stupid nickname? I had almost forgotten about it." He chuckled, his sour mood dissolving into a light-hearted one as they spoke of old and precious memories. It was hard for Yao to think back to knowing Ivan as a child; and yet he himself had been the same physical age as now.

"Da, I remember it very well! Back when you and I had both been captured by Mongolia, that bastard... I was so pale compared to all of the other children in the camp; I stuck out like a sore thumb..." Ivan said.

"And then I caught you trying to make yourself darker by rolling around in the mud! I can't place why I had gone outside in all of that rain; but you had certainly taken the right oppurtunity. Nobody else would have gone out in that. I told you only seedlings grow taller by covering themselves in dirt!" Yao finished. Ivan laughed out loud, and Yao noticed that it didn't sound much different from the chime of his voice as a child.

"Well, it worked, didn't it? I'm the one lifting you up into the air now, Bolshevik. But of course, you were the light I reached up for. I looked up to you back then... I suppose I'm the first to reach the sun." Ivan said.

Yao hid his face from Ivan. "Stop that! You can't say anything sweet anymore, I'm going to blush. It's too much for me to take." He said.

"Well then, I suppose the next day will be very torturous for you Bolshevik." Ivan told him, his playful tone melting into a deep purr. Yao's Hair tie fell away, waves of black pouring onto his shoulders.

"I really appreciate the help with my hair, Vanya; but I'm too tired for anything more tonight." He told the Russian. "Besides, wouldn't you prefer me rested and happy over tired and irritated? Us missing a few hours of darkness isn't going to hurt anything." Ivan looked disappointed, but he stripped away no more than the hair band.

"Well, I suppose I could go for a few hours of rest myself." The Russian said. "I had a long trip, anyway. If you're so tired, I could carry you to bed!" He offered. Yao quickly shook his head and declined.

"My legs work perfectly fine Ivan." He told him. "I would much rather walk beside you than be carried in your arms." He broke away from the embrace. Ivan gladly accompanied him to the bedroom; slipping beneath the warm covers. Yao pulled himself close to th other man; sticking close to his warmth. He listened to the calm, steady rythm of his heart. Ivan took him into his arms, and Yao made no effort to move away.

"I love you so much Ivan." He said, his eyes fluttering to a close. The Russian nuzzled his nose against the smaller's hair.

"I love you too, my little Bolshevik." Ivan returned the words. He shifted a bit, his body recognizing Yao's mattress. He closed his eyes.

Yao opened one of his own orbs for a split second, to look up at his lover. He could practically feel waves of love and warmth seeping from the Russian's white pores and onto his own flesh. His skin seemed to feel different when Yao brushed against it, even. That deep emotion had always been there. It had been present in that tiny seed, though in a different form, and had never left. He had been blinded by spring's fresh light; and had suffered more than a moment of weakness. He shouldn't have ever denied Ivan's emotions, even for a moment. Now he had dug himself into a hole that stretched down a thousand miles; and it would take hell to get himself out of it. His mind wandered, until sleep captured him at last.

...

Yao's slumber did not last long. Before he knew it, Ivan was up and shaking him by the shoulders like a child on christmas morning. The dawn had just ended, the final waves of pink descneding over the horizon. The air was cold, and Yao cursed the fact that he would eventually have to get out from under the blankets. He waved at the Russian drowsily, curling up.

"I'm awake Ivan, stop that! I swear I'll kick you all the way to Spain if you keep shaking me like that!" He barked. Ivan stopped immediately.

"But we only have sixteen hours now!" He exclaimed. Yao looked over his shoulder, glaring daggers at his lover. Only his angry eyes peeked out from under the blanket; hiding a fierce grimace.

"Vanya, please. I may be four millenium old, but sixteen hours is still no short amount of time! Give me two minutes to put some decent clothes on at least. Stop looking so eager." He demanded.

"Clothes? I don't see why you would be needing any clothes, Bolshevik. You won't even need them through breakfast before I-" He was cut off by Yao throwing the closest object within reach, a pillow, into his face.

"Get out get out get out!" The angered nation hissed, reaching for more ammunition to toss at Ivan's nose. An easy target for any hard object. The Russian scrambled out, avoiding any serious damage to his head. Yao huffed as he sat up. He couldn't understand what Ivan was so eager about, they had sex all the time! What was so special about a specific number on the calendar that made this time any different from the others?

He dressed, exchanging his worn garments from the day before with fresh ones. He made sure to pick something with a series of tiny, irritating buttons. Ivan's sausage fingers would struggle with them, he was sure. It would serve as the perfect form of revenge for denying Yao sleep. Of course, he may end up cursing himself for his wardrobe choice later as well... But that was then and this was now. Yao spent a few moments just getting the irritating piece of clothing to stick to his torso. He would have made a similar choice in pants, but he didn't exactly carry a tight set of jeans in his closet. Most of his inventory was loose. He just picked something that complimented the shirt, and threw it on.

A vicious growl bubbled out of his belly, and Yao decided that he had spent more than enough time with his wardrobe for the morning. He needed to slap something together for breakfast at least, or else he would have no energy whatsoever for the day's activities. He had taken a few steps out of his bedroom door when he caught the smell of the stove. He didn't even want to think of what Ivan was trying to heat up. While his nation had somewhat decent cuisine, the man himself couldn't cook much of anything worth eating. He didn't normally do any preparing of meals, unless Yao fell ill. in which case he took every activity and chore upon himself; often to Yao's disdain. The Russian was looking inside the oven when his lover found him.

"What's in there? Or do I even really wan to know?" He asked, leaning himself against the doorway. Ivan closed the door and straightened himself. He looked down at the other nation and frowned.

"What do I look like to you, an englishman?" He asked. "I found some buns in the pantry, and some cheese too. I just tossed that together. I don't very much like a cold breakfast, so I stuck it all in the oven." He explained. Yao rolled his eyes and sat himself at the table. Within a few moments the pair of countries were enjoying a simple breakfast together.

Yao decided to take some personal pleasure from the day. After both of them had finished up, he stood. Witout even moving his plate; he began to exit the kitchen. He turned witout a word, and paused for a moment to teasingly flick his head; sending bony waves over his shoulders. He stepped into the doorway, and Ivan's chair shifted. He followed a few feet behind Yao; just as the Asian wished.

Entering the living room after a few steps, Yao draped himself across the couch. He lay on his back; opening himself by spreading both legs wide. Ivan followed him in. He slithered right inbetween Yao's limbs. The smaller let out a sensual purr from within his throat. He put a hand on each of Ivan's cheeks. But, as the Russian reached for a kiss, he was intercepted by Yao's finger pressed to his lips. Ivan's eyes widened, and one eyebrow was raised in questioned. Yao had a smirk like the cheshire cat's.

"Now, Ivan... You can't take this too fast, or else it won't be any different from any other time we've had; will it?" He said. "Go slow, and take in every last second. You wouldn't scarf your food down at a gourmet restraunt, would you? Keep the pace mild for now." He told his lover. Ivan nodded. He returned to his previous mission of trying to get a smooch.

Yao accepted him gladly, his arms coming up to snake their way around Ivan's trunk; both hands stopping on his back. He deepened their connection, earning a lusty growl from Ivan. The Asian ran a finger down his lover's throat and torso, teasing him.

Yao groaned as the kiss was broken. A string of silvery saliva kept them connected with each other. Ivan bent down and nipped his ear, as a kind of possessive gesture. Yao let his head roll to one side; reavealing the flesh of his neck. Ivan took the invitation, eagerly exploring Yao's flesh with his lips. He bit down at first, leaving marks where they could be hidden beneath a collar. He follwed by kissing and lapping at the bruises gently; sensitizing Yao's flesh with pain and pleasure.

Ivan straightened himself. Yao lay back and watched him amusedly. His mischevious plot had come to fruition it seemed, as Ivan was having a very difficult time with his garments. If he tried to move away in an attempt to skip the removal of Yao's shirt, the Asian would let his eyes close gently, and he'd whine. And when the Russian's fingers slipped, well, Yao sat back and giggled at him. However annoyed he was becoming; Ivan persisted. After a long session of disrobing, Yao was left bare.

The elder nation sat up. He had to do no more than reach up and pull before Ivan's shirt came apart. The Russian let it fall behind him, looking down at Yao, who was licking his lips. The Asian pulled his lover's belt out of the loopholes in his pants; the metal buckle clinking as it hit the floor below. He pulled Ivan's pants down to his knees; and allowed his flushed member to pop out. Yao placed a butterfly kiss on it's tip; causing Ivan to shiver. He chuckled and lay back down against the soft cushions. He looked up with lusty eyes.

Ivan bent over, setting off on an expedition to explore Yao's body with his lips and fingers. Yao buried his fingers in his lover's cream colored locks. He lifted his back so it formed a gentle arch; reaching up into Ivan's thoughtful kisses. Soft, warm waves of pleasure washed over him like seafoam. His member was throbbing, asking for the same touch the rest of Yao's body was recieving. Ivan captured it in his fingers; fulfilling it's wish.

Ivan was the one drawing time out now. He continued to milk and pet Yao's cock, and then moved away when the smaller man was an inch away from orgasm. Yao tossed his head back and forth; his voice coming out in sharp cries. He kept his fingers entwined in Ivan's hair, pulling hard whenever the Russian stopped touching him. He hadn't lied about the day being tortuous! Forty five minutes of simply playing had passed by brought him to the edge, and Yao thought he might let him go this time. But he pulled back at the very last second. Yao tossed his head back and whined.

"God damnit Ivan, stop that!" He shouted. "Let me finish! I'm going to go crazy, and then I'm going to rip your balls off you stupid Russian!" He threatened. Ivan smirked devilishly. He captured his lover in a kiss. He shifted, pulling the smaller nation up to sit in his lap. Yao wrapped all of his limbs around him immediately; squeezing him like an octopus. They were left in a lotus-style position; tangled in each other. Ivan kissed him again, the connection between their lips warm and deep.

Yao kissed him back with as much passion. He let out a soft mewl as Ivan's tongue invaded his mouth. Ivan's fingers found Yao's hair. He pet the Chinese man's head. Yao repeated the gesture, massaging the Russian's locks. Ivan broke the kiss, looking into Yao's eyes for a short moment. His violet irises glimmered, and his smile was softe than fleece.

Yao felt like part of him had broken off. A feeling of disgust and guilt at his own self filled his gut. Ivan's hands roamed over his dirtied form, without the slightest notion that Yao's flesh was anything but pure. I've been so stupid, Yao thought to himself. Hadn't he ever picked up a volume of Shakespeare? What did names matter in any of this? There was no excuse for his actions, especially one so small. Ivan could call him whatever. Bolshevik, China, Yao, it didn't matter. So long as the feelings were directed toward his being. Yao hadn't felt any more or less for him, centuries ago when the Russian was his 'seedling'. Though his sense of pride would never allow him to confess his disloyalty, Yao hoped to at least express w much he felt for the Russian. He wasn't sure if it could be put into words, but hell; he would try.

He broke their kiss, nuzzling Ivan's cheek. The Russian seemed to purr, returning the gesture. "Mn, I love you Ivan..." The Chinese muttered.

"I love you too." Ivan chimed. Yao pressed the tips of their noses together, locking his eyes to the other nation's.

"I really mean it. I love you Ivan." He stated. His tone had an underlying seriousness too it. Ivan nodded.

"Yes, I love you too. Very much." He replied. Yao pressed his hands against Ivan's cheeks, pressing them with his palms so the Russian's head couldn't move.

"Listen, I'm the better part of four thousand years old now. I'm trying to tell you that I love you, Ivan Braginski, more than anything I've ever loved in all that time. There's nothing more important in this world, or the next, than you are to me." He told his lover. He had squeezed his face together to the point where Ivan had fish-lips. The blonde nodded, and Yao drew his face back. His stern look faded away, and he grinned devilishly.

"Are you sure, Vanya?" He asked, rubbing his soft face in circles. "I'll repeat myself if you need me to. I'll even say it all in Russian, if you'd like." He offered jokingly. Ivan shook his head, pulling Yao's hands off of him.

"Nyet, i don't think that will be necessary." He said. "I understand every letter, clear as a bell. But why the sudden emphasis on it? Is something wrong?" he questioned with a tone of concern. Yao sighed, and his smile softened.

"No, nothing's wrong Ivan. I'm as healthy as a horse." He told him. "I suppose I'm just trying to make sure it's through that thick European skull of yours. That... And I'm eager to hear to hear you say the same thing to me, over and over again." Yao added. Ivan chuckled, kissing his cheek.

"Fine. I don't think I don't think I can manage to tell you a billion times in one day though. But I do love you; trillions of times over." Ivan told him, his voice sweet and loving. Yao pet his hair.

"Good... It makes me feel great when you say that." Yao said. " Now... Tell me the same thing with your fingers, and I think i'll be satisfied for today."

Ivan gave a dirty purr, and continued where he had left off before. He kept Yao placed on his lap, rubbing down his shoulders, all the way to his ass, and back up again. Yao's eyes were half lidded from the soft, relaxing pleasure inside of him.

However, eager for more intensity, the Chinese rocked his hips back and forth. This created a hot friction between his and his lover's cock; sending electricity into Yao's spine. The blonde groaned, and looked at his lover with a sudden sense of realization.

"Fuck... You didn't put a bottle of lube in your pocket, did you?" He asked. Yao cursed himself into oblivion. He really, really did not want to have to hop up, skitter into his room, and skitter back, just for a bottle.

"No. Check the couch cushions first before you send me running. I'm sure there's one in there somewhere." He said. Ivan turned enough to keep Yao from tumbling off of his lap, reaching his arm in and fishing around for a bottle. The older nation had at least twenty bottles tossed around in random corners of the house; wherever they had decided to drop down and get to it. It was very convenient, really. He thanked what ever sex god had invented the lubricant specific for their purpose; and thanked them again for putting it in a plastic, easy to conceal container. Besides, sex felt better with that, and not some kind of random oil that Yao had procured.

His thoughts subsided, and he was just about to give up when his palm wrapped around a container. "Ah! Got one!" He exclaimed, pulling it out. Yao's eyebrows hopped up in excitement.

"Well then, what are you waiting around for? Put it to use!" He demanded, bucking his hips eagerly. Ivan didn't waste a second. He poured a generous amount of the fluid into his palm, literally tossing the bottle away into some unknown spot. He marked that down as another convenience: He could throw the thing anywhere he wanted, and not have to worry about picking up glass! Yao normally would have scolded him for such an action, but now he was much too preoccupied with his sexual desires to care. The Russian covered his length in the thick substance, and grabbed both of his lover's hips. Yao wrapped both arms around his shoulders as he was led down onto him; his muscles spreading to make room for the familiar intrusion. Ivan gave a shuddering sigh; and moved so that Yao lay on his back again.

"Ready?" He asked. Yao replied by wrapping his legs around the Russian's hips; pulling him deeper into his body. Ivan took this as a definite yes. He withdrew half-way, and then pressed back in. Yao seemed content with the movement; so Ivan repeated the motion. He kept moving. He let out a shaky breath as sparks of pleasure shot up through his spinal chord.

Yao was in a similar state of ecstasy. He lay back on the soft cushions, his back arched and his heart pumping like a train's engine. His eyes lay closed behind his lashes, but his mouth hung open an inch so he could pant and groan. He kept his legs wrapped tight around the Russian, ensuring that he remained deep inside as their rythm's tempo rose.

Ivan definitely wasn't in a rush at this point. His movements weren't even close to slow, but nowhere near intense either. Yao felt like he was laying in a pool of pleasure, every inch of his body soaked. Ivan bent his neck, capturing Yao in a passionate kiss. The Chinese returned it, rubbing his lover's shoulders as he did so.

The blonde broke away with a groan. "God, I love you..." He muttered. Yao let out a high note from his throat as he felt Ivan's cock hit his sweet spot.

"Mnh, I love you too...!" He managed to gasp out, his voice wavering. Ivan kissed his cheek tenderly, sneaking one of his hands down between the other's legs. Gripping his member in his palm, he stroked and kissed Yao gently. He left only seconds for the Asian to breathe in between kisses. Suddenly, biting down on Ivan's lip; His hips bucked. He came onto their stomachs, his eyes flashing with white. Ivan pumped his hips a few more times, pulling out. he stroked himself for a second until, with a shuddering groan, he released himself onto the couch cushions.

Yao sat back and composed himself. He let his heart slow down to it's normal pace. He sat up and kissed the blonde, feeling his index finger run down his belly. Breaking the kiss, Ivan took the white fluid he'd collected on the tip of his finger and licked it clean. Yao flushed red at the gesture. Ivan went in for more- dipping down and beginning to lap at his lover's torso.

"That's not right Ivan." He said, shivering a little as the Russian's tongue flicked across his stomach. Ivan stood on his knees and cocked an eyebrow.

"What? It's not anything that I haven't swallowed before now." He said. Yao agreed to that one, nodding his head. He hesitated for a second, and curiously licked a drop from the Russian's torso. Waiting a moment, he lapped at it. Once finished cleaning him, Ivan scooped Yao up into his arms.

"See? Not so bad." He said. Yao chuckled and nuzzled him, laying his head against his chest. His heart was light, and unclouded.

Yao fell into his arms more than once that day. He loved him until His heart nearly bled, and his mind collapsed. By midnight his overly sensitized body shivered under the sheets; torn by all of the stimulation. It was nearly a quarter after that time now, and Yao sat trying to rest. Ivan had found sleep easy enough- Yao was fairly convinced that the Russian had blacked out after that last round. Yao opened his eyes half way, gazing at him in the moonlight for just a little while. He pulled himself close to his chest, and Ivan's heartbeat was able to lull him to sleep.

Snuggling even closer to the blonde's pale flesh, Yao made his decision. He had to stop his filthy behavior, and as soon as humanly possible. He would take any measure needed, however drastic, to ensure that he ended his affair cold turkey. If he had to lock himself up in his own home, he would. If he had to coerce Ivan into moving in, or perhaps letting Yao move to the other's frozen estate, he would. And if the worse came, he would confess every detail to Ivan. But that was certainly the worst case scenario. He hoped to carry that secret to the grave with him; however many years in the future that may turn out to be. But now, he had to bury this sin he'd committed. And Wang Yao would stop at nothing until it did.

So? Did you guys enjoy the longest chapter thus far? ;w; I can't believe this is nearly 6,000 words. Anyway, I don't know how lng it will be before chapter 17 is made. But I'll try to get it done as quickly as possible, okay broskis? I love you alls, and I hope that you'll review! 


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